Half Chance
by casfics
Summary: With new life comes lots of exciting opportunities. However, a looming diagnosis of an incurable disease passed on through genetics is a recipe for disaster. Especially when one parent is still completely in the dark.
1. Chapter 1

**_New story. I'm going to try and keep at this one as I have some ideas I can work with. It will follow on from Baby Steps, my other story that I've finished, aiming for it to be about 5 years after. Let me know what you think!_**

'I do wish you would stop bloody flapping,' Alicia sighs, as she munches the last of the third cucumber of the day. 'Like a mother hen!'

'I'm not flapping.' Ethan replies, bending to pick up a small pink dress that had crumpled beneath the radiator. 'I am simply advising you it's probably not best to ram vegetables down your throat all day, too much of anything is bad—'

She rolls her eyes. 'Better than chocolate. Come on, you can't lie, it's healthy!'

'Not by the bucket load.' He mutters, taking away the soggy kitchen roll to the bin in the kitchen. 'It's time to get Delilah from school, anyway.'

'Shit, it was that assembly awards thing—'

'She told me in the car this morning she didn't want us there.'

'What? She loves us going!' Alicia exclaims.

'To quote her, "don't come here later on Daddy", so...'

'She's six, she doesn't know what she wants. I'm gutted we missed it.'

'That's outrageous, course she knows, stubborn little thing. She's your daughter alright.' He winks. 'Besides, I doubt there was anything worthy of missing. She only recently got the award, didn't she? For tidying up.'

Alicia snorts. 'Your daughter, more like.' She pulls the top down further, conscious of the mound attached to her jutting out at an awkward angle. 'I feel _huge_.'

'You are huge,' he agrees, 'especially to say you weren't even obviously showing last time at all.'

'Thanks.' She replies flatly. 'You are supposed to comfort me, no darling, you've never looked better, you're positively glowing...'

'I'm not about to lie.' He says, deadpan.

'Truth hurts feelings, lies sometimes don't. I thought you would rather not offend someone?'

He picks the car keys off the side, chucking them into the air and catching again between finger and thumb. 'You acknowledged it yourself! Are you coming with me or not?'

She heaves herself off the sofa, moving in a way that is half totter, half waddle. With great effort, she tugs on her boots, muttering expletives. 'I feel like a human submarine.'

'Submarine.' He snorts, as he throws her a jacket and puts the keys in the door. 'You have a way with words.'

She laughs back, despite herself, and manages to plod along to the car. It takes twice the amount of time it should — especially considering the car is only ten metres down the drive. The painfully slow speed is met by a degree of patience from Ethan almost enviable; he understands that tiny everyday adjustments have to be made.

'What if my waters break?' Alicia asks, pushing her seat back.

'They won't,' he assures her. 'It is one journey you've made all week, plus, baby seems snug in there. Probably too drugged up on cucumber to budge.'

'I just worry. Delilah would have a right tale to tell. Imagine that, this is my sister and my mum birthed her in the playground!'

'Unlikely. You'd go somewhere more quiet, like a staffroom or the cleaning cupboard.' Ethan smiles, carefully steering. 'Do you think it's a girl then?'

'What?'

'You said sister.' He points out.

'Did I? Freundin slip, perhaps.' She shrugs, smiling a little.

It has been clear from the get go that she would love another daughter, one to bring up from day one all pink and new. Everything with Alicia must be girly, so it's natural she wants an army of mini mes.

'Well, it'll be a wonderful surprise whatever it is.' Ethan says evenly.

'Labour literally could start, though. Nobody prepares you for this, do they? I feel so scared all of a sudden.'

'You'll be fine, you've done it once before. If it starts here, you are in the best hands.' He grins.

They drive along, both lost in thought. Trees fly past, buildings, people, bikes. They are infinitely lucky to live in such a quiet, communal part of the world, but not at three in the afternoon. It is notoriously the worst hour for traffic: office workers on late lunch breaks seek the hour to escape the dull four walls, schoolchildren and students are released, the postman does the rounds. There are lots of things to see.

Concentration, particularly when in control of a vehicle, is crucial. This does not much affect Ethan, a careful driver at all hours. He watches carefully, mirror almost in front of his nose. Indicates left. Gives way to at least five cars (and a bus). Finally, after both directions are ridiculously clear, he turns the corner into the car park of the little school.

'You quite sure it was safe to pull in?' Alicia mutters.

'Precious cargo on board.' He says in response, reversing into the space. 'You drive if you don't like my driving.'

'If I could fit behind the wheel, I would jump at the chance to.'

They both get out the car and make their journey into the school. Her hand remains firmly under her stomach, as if it isn't just a baby in there, but a sack of bricks.

'Mr and Mrs Hardy?' An anxious, excitable looking woman with ringlets and a clipboard greets them. 'Here to sign Delilah out? Year 2?'

'Please.' Ethan says, greeting her with a polite smile. 'Where do I sign?'

Alicia smiles at the woman as he scribbles a signature. 'You must be Mrs Robins. One week back of school and you've made a great impression on our girl.'

'Oh no, love. I'm just the receptionist, Mrs Green. Teaching went out the window for me a few years back, a substitute position gone wrong.'

'Ah right.' Alicia nods politely. 'Bet you're glad it's the weekend?'

'Yes, it's been a hectic week. Ooh — how _exciting_!' The woman gestures at Alicia's stomach, rubbing her hands together. 'You can't have long left?'

'My due date was yesterday, actually.'

Ethan kicks at her heel, which forces her to produce a genuine smile, instead of a withering look.

'Exciting for your daughter, a new playmate! Have you found out whether it's pink or blue?'

'Uh, we're keeping it a surprise.' He chimes in, holding back a gulp. It was worth waiting for the gender over being stamped with a death sentence at the 20 week _abnormality_ scan. Persuading Alicia to miss it altogether, though not completely safe, had felt the obvious option.

'He's funny about it, proper old-fashioned.' Alicia rolls her eyes and squeezes his hand. 'We'd better go get her if that's okay.'

'Of course, straight round. Hope all goes well!' Mrs Green says kindly, waving them off and smiling at another parent, who was queueing behind them.

-x-

A sea of red swarmed before them as they took position on the concrete, waiting by the 'pick up bench' alongside the clusters of parents.

'Needle in a haystack.' Ethan mumbles, trying to peer through the crowd.

'I see her,' Alicia smiles, pointing.

Sure enough, there she is. Delilah skips along, clumsy but happy, keen to get outside. Her glasses fall wonkily against her rosy cheeks, blonde plaits bounce against her shoulders, green eyes vague and searching the crowd. Realisation dawns, and it is beautiful.

'Mummy! You came!' She squeals, gathering pace as she sprints across the playground.

'Hey monster!' Alicia greets, picking her up and twirling her around. 'Thought I'd move off the sofa and come see you!'

'Careful, you'll put your back out.' He warns her, taking the lunchbox from his child's wrist and zipping it up more firmly. 'How are you, D?'

'Daddy, look, look!' With sparkling eyes, the little girl flourishes a certificate, beaming. 'Read it!'

Ethan takes it, his own smile widening as he tilts it a little to allow Alicia to see. 'Hey, this is awesome! Best scientist? _Wow_!'

'Best scientist, eh?' Alicia nudges Ethan with amusement. 'Some grown ups don't even get that award, even if they try all their lives. You must have done something really special.'

The pair exchange glances above their daughter's head, causing him to give a little head shake and chuckle. She uses, without fail, any excuse to dig at him.

'I did an experiment with ice cubes and water and— daddy, are you listening?' Delilah tugs his arm indignantly.

'Yes, sorry sweetheart. Did you have to make the ice cubes into water, then?'

'Liquid!' She corrects. 'I had to stop them from getting to be liquid. I said that using cotton wool or tinfoil would be best, but everybody else in my team said it would be plastic or even carpet, which is definitely silly, and I knowed that using the cotton wool would keep all the warm out and make sure that it stayed all cubey.'

Ethan ruffles his daughter's hair affectionately. 'Sounds like you did perfectly to me. This is seriously cool. I think it should go on the fridge.'

'Yeah, or on the wall next to the door!' Delilah enthuses.

'Tell you what, it can go anywhere you want. We're super proud of you. Going to be a doctor one day?' Alicia asks.

The little girl giggles, a tinkling sound, clapping her hand over her face in embarrassment. 'Too _boring_! I want to be an astronaut.'

They both laugh.

'Will you fly me to the moon then? Seeing as I'm your mum and everything.' Alicia says, once she's composed herself.

'I want to take daddy...' She says thoughtfully. 'He would be better if we got lost.'

Ethan laughs, loudly, triumphantly. 'You are my favourite girl, Delilah.'

'Daddy hates heights though.' Alicia recognises, dramatically yawning in a bid to get a jibe back.

'Then he can go to sleep or shut his eyes.' She says simply, as if she has found the solution.

Ethan ruffles his daughter's already messy, windswept hair, wondering how he could ever love another being as much. 'You are cute.'

She widens her eyes, spiky, long eyelashes even more striking. They both notice the dinner round her face, a strange blend of chocolate and conspicuous orange stains. A fleck of neon yellow is even more obvious: clearly a result of a day well spent splashing in paints.

Between them, they lug all the bags back to the car. There is so much luggage, to a stranger, it would be natural to wonder if it belonged to a large family. It didn't. All Delilah's artistic creations — and all their many sequins — alongside the sports kit for a weekly wash, spelling and reading books, and the recorder in its case. They chose not to educate her privately so that she could have such an experience. A price couldn't be put on the achey arms and glittery kitchen linoleum.


	2. Chapter 2

The room is still, eerily quiet. Alicia is drowsy, struggles to keep her eyes open. She is aware that in the crib nearby, a tiny body writhes and squeaks. Her baby.

A nurse comes in to wind the lemon blinds up, signalling it's daytime, and leaves just as quickly. If she had enough strength, she would contest this. There is no such thing as day and night when you've just gone through the ordeal of childbirth. It isn't like there was anyone else in the room to consider either. Having close links with those high up in the hospital meant that they'd secured her a private room, even at such short notice. It is as peaceful as it could possibly be.

The shrill ring of the buzzer rudely jerks her awake, but she can't feel grumpy for more than a second. Two faces, spectacle-clad and comically similar, press their noses to the window. It is unclear as to who is the most excited — both are grinning stupidly with strings of helium balloons clutched tightly in fists.

'Come in,' she calls, smiling through her exhaustion.

Ethan scoops Delilah up before they walk through the door, even though this clearly strains his arms greatly.

'Put me down, daddy—'

He relents, still conscious of her giddiness, extending an arm to block her from getting too close. 'Oh my, look who that is.'

'A baby.' She whispers, a little hand flying to her mouth. 'A real baby.'

Alicia smiles softly. 'Real as real can be.'

'Is it a boy or girl?' Delilah asks, peering over the plastic box to look more closely.

'Yeah,' Ethan takes his glasses off to wipe his eyes, and looks towards his wife. 'Boy or girl?'

'Come here, my best girl.' Alicia outstretches an arm, pulling her daughter in and whispering in her ear something.

'A brother?' The child squeals, running over to her dad's legs and hugging them tightly, spinning round in circles. 'Daddy, it's a boy!'

'A boy,' Ethan repeats, enchanted. 'A son.'

'Pick him up, he looks like a tomato.' Alicia chuckles. 'I would move, but, too sore.'

'Stay where you are, I'll sit on the edge of the bed.' He replies instantly, scooping the infant up into his arms. 'Hello, little man, I'm your daddy.'

'Isn't he like you?' Alicia says.

'Like Cal.' Ethan mumbles.

'Uncle Cal?' Delilah asks, clearly listening in whilst swinging her legs. 'That funny one in the photo frame in your bedroom?'

They both exchange a knowing glance, and he squeezes onto the bundle in his arms a little tighter. The room falls quiet. Even the little girl falls quiet, and the repetitive bashing sound of limbs against mattress stops abruptly. In the background, the clock ticks. It is like they all know — and wish — that it hadn't been said.

'Delilah, do you want to hold him?' Ethan offers, suddenly willing to part with his new pride and joy as he extends his arms.

'Put this spare pillow on her knee.' Alicia says wearily.

A fumble of hands and mumbled words and a few seconds later, and the baby is balancing rather precariously on his sister's knee. The head remains supported by Ethan's strong hand, while at the top of the bed, Alicia watches on proudly and snaps a quick photo. It is the first she has taken of the baby — for once, she vowed to put her phone completely aside. She wasn't bothered for birth pictures. The nurse and Jackie both offered, but she waved a hand dismissively every time. It didn't feel right that a camera would see her precious little boy before her husband and daughter saw. Now though, it's different. It only feels right to capture such a beautiful moment on camera. It is the sort that will have its own place on a frame near the telly.

'Do you like him?' He asks finally, gently wrapping his spare arm around his daughter's body.

'He is so wrinkly,' Delilah mumbles, prodding his cheeks with a thumb.

'Be gentle.' Ethan reminds.

'He'll look like a real baby when he comes home and out of hospital. You can help bathe him, dress him, and when he's even bigger, he might want to play with you. You will be a super duper big sister, won't you?' Alicia says.

An older looking midwife comes back in, hovers, realising guests are in.

'Dad, I'm hungry—' Delilah whines, tugging on his arm and loosening her grip on the baby. 'I want breakfast.'

'In a minute,' he sighs, taking the baby back. 'It is daddy to you.'

The midwife, Julie, looks sympathetic and crouches down aside the bed. 'Shall I take you to find something special? It's a secret though. Big sister fuel.' She says in a loud whisper, glancing across at Alicia as she does so.

Delilah smiles a little, then looks toward her mum for permission, eyes wide.

'Have fun,' Alicia winks, and watches her daughter and the midwife skip out the door.

When they are gone, the two turn to one another, rueful yet proud smiles adorning their faces. Carefully, he stretches to kiss her, pride washing through him as he does so. They look back at their son. He is wonderful, so perfectly designed and created. He is bald and tiny and very red, creases sit atop and under his eyes and cheeks, and his tiny fists ball up against his mouth.

'Aren't midwives superheroes?'

'Yeah.' She agrees thoughtfully. 'Listen, I think you should cut her some slack.'

'Who?' He asks quickly.

She takes his hand cautiously, as if anticipating his reaction will be immediately annoyed. 'Let her call you dad. Let her poke the baby a bit. Let her feel like a big girl and walk for herself.'

'I don't want him getting hurt.' He replies stiffly.

'And he won't.' Alicia murmurs, taking her child back into her arms. 'He isn't breakable. I would be the first to worry, I grew him.'

'She still feels like my baby too though.'

'Of course, and she is. It's just a bit different. The more we treat her like a grown up, the more we involve her, the less she will feel like her nose has been pushed out.'

'You speak from experience of having a sibling, then?' Ethan says curtly, then regrets it soon after.

Her face pales slightly, and she swallows and looks down. ' _Neither_ of us had a younger sibling. _Neither_ of us had a childhood like the one we hope to provide our babies with. We don't know what we are doing, I don't claim to know, I am just trying to empathise and see things from a six year old's point of view. I only want the best, Ethan, Christ, I don't want a row.'

He greets this response with his usual expression of regret, forehead creasing, eyes round and soft. 'I know. I am just tired, I couldn't sleep because I was too busy worrying. I'm sorry, my love.'

She shakes her head a little bit, repositions her son in the crook of her arm and strokes his head. 'No apologies needed. Though, if you're tired, I'm positively unconscious.'

'How much did he weigh?' Ethan asks, throat tight.

'8 pounds and an ounce,' she answers. 'Not too bad. Heavier than his sister, she was only six pounds, wasn't she?'

'Born when?'

'Exactly twenty past five. Only just an hour old.'

He puts a finger in the centre of the baby's palm, just like he did many years before. He squeezes — hard.

'What about names, have you thought?'

'Honestly?' She looks down at him. 'No clue. He doesn't look like anything. I thought I'd wait and see what you and Delilah thought.'

'I like traditional names. Nice and strong, they will carry him through his life. George, Edward, Oliver, Jack, William—'

'Do you? See, I quite like the new funky ones. I was reading in a magazine. Like, Ezra is cute. Elijah, Eric, Theo, Casper, Victor, Oakley, Rupert...'

'Sounds like you definitely have an idea about names.' He replies. 'Choose one of those. You're spoilt for choice. Try them out, I know a woman from med school who did that. She got pregnant in her third year and when she'd had her little boy, she swapped his name every day for a week till she found one she thought suited the most.'

Alicia laughs. 'That's exactly it, there's too many to choose from. I am not choosing something without your input either. Jack is cute.'

'I don't know. We can ask Delilah and have a think. He can't be nameless forever though, poor little guy.'

'I know. I'm just so relieved that he's here at long last.' She says softly.

'Me too. I'm proud of you.'

 ** _Thank you all for your lovely comments! I love reading them. Hope you are all well. Do let me know in a review what you'd like the baby to be called!_**


	3. Chapter 3

Ethan spins his son around the room one too many times, until he is beyond sure they are dizzy.

'Seth Caleb Hardy,' he repeats to himself. It is quite a religious name, yet the sentiment is of utmost importance. Plus, it sounds like a strong name, and he is certainly a strong boy at eight pounds. His thatch of blonde hair looks more strawberry in the sunlight, and his chubby cheeks and dimples _most definitely_ belong to Alicia. Maybe he will be attached to spectacles for life, those thick rimmed ones that always look out of place on little ones. Maybe he will like sport. Maybe he will play the cello. Maybe he'll be a puzzle fanatic, glued to Sunday newspaper crosswords. It is so exciting. A name means an identity, true and proper and beautiful.

'Not _great_ to say aloud if you've got a lisp.' Alicia chimes in, bursting the father-son bubble by popping her head in the doorway with a cheeky smile.

'I like it,' he replies, feeling a strange sense of defensiveness wash over him. 'We both agreed. And Delilah is a fan.'

'I know, just kidding.' She says, resting a hand on his shoulder. 'Going to cobble together some cereal for munchkin before she goes to school. Do you want anything?'

'Cheerios? And milk, but—'

'The green one.' She chips in with a knowing nod. 'On it.'

He smiles thinly as she leaves the room. It is Monday, and despite persistent nagging, neither caved into their young daughter's requests of a duvet day. Life needs to resume as normal, and her attendance record is not going to dip for the birth of her brother. No way. Ethan is a stickler for a glowing school report. Even if it meant they have to drag their heavy limbs out of bed after no sleep, and before the sun even rises, then so be it.

The pastel blocks of colour in the nursery make it the most adorable little sanctuary.

As the infant curls against his chest, he turns to watch the outside world. Condensation has formed on the window - maybe it rained in the night - but the birds still chirp happily nonetheless. An index finger collects the damp, wipes it on his trouser leg.

With childlike amusement, he wonders what he could draw. Alicia will be next in the room to feed baby when he gets grouchy. Maybe a phallus. Too crude, but timeless. Somehow though, he can't bring himself to. It's his newborn son's room, for God's sake. Instead he chooses to trace something a little more apt. His finger hovers before making the curves of two initials, separated by a loveheart. He winces at himself and turns around before his mind convinces him to scrub it away with a sleeve.

Seth's eyelids have fluttered shut at long last: something from which Ethan takes immense relief. Gently, quietly, he lies him on his back in the cot. He takes a step back to look. Such a tiny body in a huge container — it almost feels wrong. It will be a long time, he imagines, before they leave him there overnight.

He doesn't remember Delilah being this small, when in actual fact, she was tinier. With grim recollection, he knows the days were all such a blur because he was sailing the ship alone.

 _Now it is different_.

Though not a long term fix, the cot is a safe holding place for the precious cargo. It also means he has a slither of a chance to gobble down breakfast without something weighing his arm down. He tiptoes down the stairs, though this is silly. They do not creak — it's a new build. But, if there's any chance the child may wake, he is not about to take it. He spots the genetic screening leaflet and noted number at the foot of the stairs and kicks it aside, hoping it won't be found. Basking in pride and love feels important, at least for now.

He bumbles into the kitchen, slipper-shod and bleary eyed. He instantly takes a seat at the breakfast table opposite his young daughter, and drums his fingers on the wood. A bowl of Cheerios sits in front of him as requested, and blissfully, they are not even completely soggy.

'Daddy, you look like a zombie.' Delilah observes flatly, milk dribbling down her chin. 'All dead and scary.'

Alicia looks up from the chopping board and struggles to stifle a laugh. 'Go back to bed babe! No use in forcing yourself to rise when you don't have to.'

'I do have to though. What about dropping Delilah off?'

'I'll do it. Take baby on his first outing in the car seat.'

He stares at her, eyes narrow. 'Less than 48 hours after giving birth. Not happening.'

'I'm right as rain! You underestimate me. Just because I happened to have given another human life, I am _certainly_ not an invalid.'

'You shouldn't even be vertical. You should be in bed. I would have made lunches, I would have sorted reading bags, sticker charts, nappies, washing—'

'I am fine.' She replies heavily, tone verging on annoyed.

'If anything happened to any of the three people I love the most, I would never ever forgive myself. Ever. It would be worse than losing my brother, seeing him there on the table, lifeless. Seeing his waxy pale skin, the big red circle on his chest that meant that was that forever. A life just snuffed out. Worse than everything else I've ever been through.' He retorts firmly. 'You remember how I was. I'm not taking chances. This is non-negotiable.'

For a second there's silence. He has even shocked himself with the raw honesty of his words. Perhaps, he wonders, it is unreasonable to blackmail the newly-postpartum love of his life, what with her fragile emotions and hormone-riddled body, and it's _definitely_ worse to mention death in front of his six year old with pigtails.

Delilah is the first to act, coughing a little on the cereal, and then spluttering and turning red. Nobody springs into action. It is gagging, not choking, and it's safer to leave a gagging child than to intervene. Clearly going by the book, or recovering from his words, or both, Alicia doesn't act and stays frozen by the carrot sticks she's assembled into a flower in Tupperware.

'Pat on the back?' Ethan mumbles dutifully after a few seconds pass.

She manages a nod, so he leans over the table and thumps firmly until the food is dislodged.

'You hurt me.' Delilah whines, tipping her head back and folding her arms across her chest.

'Yeah.' He stands, regret in his eyes, letting the spoon fall hard against the ceramic. 'I seem to have that effect.'

Without another word or look, he plonks his bowl in the sink. There is an almighty clatter. A tea towel is thrown at the side, door slammed.

'Ethan—' Alicia calls, but she doesn't follow him out.

In the seconds that follow his strop, he knows it was the worst thing to do in the moment. Rather than calmly acknowledge the situation and diffuse any tension, he reacted, stirred it in doing so, and made things a whole lot worse. He takes refuge on the stairs and buries head in hands.

Murmurs come from the kitchen. In her dulcet Geordie tones he loves so much, words of comfort tumble out. For their little girl, of course. He hopes she isn't scared. Hurting either was the last thing he ever meant to do, but exhaustion prevailed and he managed to do it all wrong. As usual.

 _Shit_.

Nothing he ever does is right. All Alicia needs is a man, a _father_ , who can step up to the marker, be responsible and doting and say kind things. He has failed to conform to the description miserably. And he's truly ashamed.

Something is said, he hears faintly, about getting a school bag.

He nearly leaps up, not wanting to be seen listening in. Too late. Delilah peers round curiously, latching her big green eyes onto his own pair.

'H-have you been crying?' Ethan asks immediately, shocked.

A flicker of self-consciousness appears in the child's expression, and she begins to rub furiously at her streaked face. It is instantly alarming and has potential to bowl him over — unknowingly the child has mirrored the expression her mother pulled on too many an occasion. It is upsetting.

'Darling, no, you'll make it all worse. Come here.' He pulls her onto his knee, wincing as her now-gangly and wrapped in navy nylon legs bumped his. 'Tell daddy why you're sad.'

She sniffs hard. 'Cause mummy and you argue all the time, an... and—'

He rocks her, concerned as she becomes even more inconsolable. The noise causes Alicia to appear, and she takes a seat at the other side of them and begins to rub her daughter's knee in silent understanding.

'My friend Joseph doesn't have a daddy since his parents had a bad fight that they even had to call 999 for, and now he lives just with one parent, like I used to do but that was different when mummy was poorly, and I don't really remember that, but now I think you might leave me and then fight some more and now the baby is here it means more fighting will happen and I hate hearing unkind words.' The child gulps.

They exchange glances above the top of her head.

'Well, sometimes people struggle to get on. They find it a bit difficult if they disagree about something. Maybe they even say a mean or hurtful thing. It doesn't always mean they are going to leave. In fact, when you care about someone, sometimes you even hurt them a bit more.' He explains slowly, cool long fingers soothing the blotchy and swollen marks on her face.

'Why?' Delilah asks, burying her head into his chest.

Ethan shakes his head a little. 'Because they matter to you. You might say something mean to them, but really, you've only said it because you think about them a lot in the first place and they are precious to you. It's easy then to get frustrated if they do and say things you wish they wouldn't.'

'Is that why you shouted at my mummy?'

With a slightly larger swallow, Ethan reaches down and clasps Alicia's hand in his.

'Yeah. I was, uh, really wrong to do that. I'm sorry, mummy, if I upset you at all.'

'I accept your apology daddy,' Alicia returns solemnly. 'I know you were just worried. We can compromise. I will come in the car with you, and you can drive. I'm glad we're friends again. Later will be exciting when we all go for our photos taking by the man with the camera.'

A couple of seconds of awkward silence pass by. Delilah smooths out the pleats in her school skirt, then turns to both her parents, whose eyes are both shining.

'Will you keep on kissing each other then?'

Alicia giggles a little then glances back downwards.

'All the time,' returns Ethan firmly, stretching over to do just that, and then placing a quick kiss on the top of his daughter's head for good measure. 'Now go and get that school bag.'


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thank you for the follows, my notifications are playing up and I can't see who but I do hope you like where this goes. If you have any suggestions or comments please do drop them below or pop me a message through!**_

 _ **ReadingxTherapy: Thank you so much lovely! Your reviews are always the nicest and make me smile each and every time. I truly am humbled that you read and like the things I write — especially as it's only a hobby! Hope you enjoy this update, grateful for your continued support.**_

'He is definitely your double,' Louise affirms, stroking the infant's forehead.

'You think?'

'Positive. Everything about him. He's like his sister too.'

Alicia presses the mug of steaming coffee to her lips, tipping it gently. 'Mm, she's definitely her father's daughter.'

'You two are both fairly alike anyway,' she ushers, rocking the child side to side. 'Bet you're chuffed to bits. Little family at long last — married in blissful happiness, new house, two _gorgeous_ babies. Everything is going as it should and that is truly wonderful.'

'Yeah,' agrees Alicia thoughtfully. 'Lucky, finally, we've been waiting ages for our happiness.'

Waitresses weave in and out of tables, carrying plates balanced precariously on splayed palms above their heads. Tables are jammed together, almost thoughtfully if it weren't for the clutter, and customers sit back to back and nose to nose over warm beverages.

Woolly scarves and winter coats sit on the back of chairs — the weather is just getting colder and it's bringing everyone in to shelter from the season.

Ethan is still on paternity leave, but he insisted that she got out the house and even transferred money to cover the drinks. This was perhaps a gesture he would have made anyway: he always puts her at the forefront of his mind and every action. She idly wondered, just for a moment, if the suggestion was born out of the guilt he felt for the happenings of the morning. Still, it was definitely sweet, and had worked if its intention was nothing more than a peace offering.

Without even being there, she knows he'll be busying himself tidying up around the house. He loves a good once over of the house, and it's the perfect opportunity to declutter the place a bit.

She sits back while Louise cuddles her child even closer. The hot liquid splashed down her throat and it's welcome — somehow, with it in her veins, she is capable of conquering anything, even with no rest at all.

-x-

It is evening. Late. Almost midnight.

Ethan bursts into the room and immediately wishes he could take the steps backwards.

In the window are both Alicia and baby, equally exhausted, both red in the face from crying yet still swaying. He doesn't know who to comfort first. Feeling dreadful, he wishes he could mute Seth and his unrelenting mewls for just ten minutes in order to soothe his love, who is obviously distressed and needing a break.

'What can I do?' He asks quietly, placing a hand on her waist.

She shrugs, helpless. 'He just won't stop.'

Ethan chews a lip, thinking about all the textbooks he's ever read and all the google searches he's ever made. They would say take him straight to hospital to rule anything out, but that seems weak, as they're doctors and can clearly tell there's nothing wrong with him. Colic, too hot or warm, simply just wanting attention. Nothing seems to fit the bill and yet again, he's floundering, finding himself clueless. Five years older than he was first time round, feeling not one bit wiser.

'Was she like this?' Alicia asks, nodding towards their daughter's room.

'No,' Ethan answers truthfully. 'She cried, of course, but not to the same level. It's early days though, right?'

Her shoulders visibly sag. 'I just feel like I'm doing something wrong.'

'You are not,' he snaps in response. 'Rock him and he will quieten. This is typical baby behaviour, this is what they do.'

'He'll wake Delilah if he keeps going.'

'Don't worry about her,' he chews a lip. 'She will get back off. Sleeps like the dead, anyway, always has.'

She leans against the wall, fraught with worry and guilt. Seth writhes and squirms in her arms, and so wordlessly, Ethan takes him from her and cuddles him close.

'Go shower. You need to have a few minutes out. I've got him.'

'What if he's hungry?'

'He will wait ten minutes if so. Just go, darling, please.'

Reluctantly, she makes her way into the bathroom. He pauses, holds his breath, waiting for the click of the lock. Finally he hears it and so sinks downwards, the mattress dipping and groaning beneath him with the weight.

As if by miracle, the baby quietens. Deep down, Ethan knows it is a matter of a change of hands, someone who's calmer and less upset, but it feels like everything. The last dummy, he idly remembers, is waiting in the steriliser downstairs. It isn't worth going down for, so he offers the baby an improvised solution: the knuckle of his little finger. After a couple of seconds, it starts to work. Peace and quiet at long last. It is definitely overdue in the household.

If he drifts off a little, he can almost hear the ringing in his ears. Certainly one thing he hasn't missed about new parenthood. Then he is bleary eyed, sinking into sleep, further and further, until a pitter pattern of feet rudely jerks him upright. He sits up instantly and is greeted by the sight of a bedraggled little girl. His chest aches at the mere sight of her.

'Come here sweetheart,' he whispers, patting the patch of bed beside him.

Delilah does as instructed, tucking her little feet into her body as if aware that she's stealing space.

She then prods her brother's face. 'He woke me.'

'He doesn't know,' Ethan explains gently. 'Might be hungry, or tired, or sad, or poorly. That is his way of communicating with us for now. Leave him be, and with luck he will stay snoozing a while.'

Delilah half listens, half snuggles into the dressing gown she's found under the covers. She rummages around, tiny fingers scrabbling, until she pulls out a number of objects from the pocket.

'Daddy, what are these?' She asks, with childlike curiosity even in her sleepy state.

Ethan readjusts Seth in the crook of his arm and peels his eyes away from his phone slowly. 'Hmm?'

A clear plastic bag is flourished a little too violently, and he has to awkwardly bend and fumble around to find his glasses in the dim light. As he rises back up from the floor steadily, he notices the items suspended within.

The cotton buds. Tiny pieces of card. Cellotape. Little bottle of cloudy liquid. The unmistakable scrap of paper with that logo on it, all too recognisable to a medic.

And, to his horror, there are no longer just his young daughter's eyes fixed upon it.

From the doorway, Alicia looks on. Her face has frozen completely, lost all its animation. She averts her glance for a second. The bath towel is hoisted up. Then, her stare is set back on to him.

'Something for work. Try and settle down now or you'll have to go back into your own room.'

Delilah's eyes mirror those of her mother — wide and round and scared looking. Her little head turns, almost in sought of approval.

Alicia just shakes her head in utter disbelief. 'If I wasn't so knackered, I would take the kids and leave.'

'Little dramatic,' he gives an uneasy laugh.

She responds to this with a cold stare. 'You think I'm kidding.'

He instinctively holds his son tighter. 'It- it isn't what it looks like.'

'I'd love to know what it _is_ then.' Her voice cracks a little.

'I, you—'

'Because to me, Ethan, it screams a lack of trust, like you think there is even a chance that he isn't your baby.' She says calmly, though he detects the wobble in her voice. 'Lucky for you I'm too exhausted to think straight. Twelve hours to think of an excuse. Better make it a good one.'

Ethan watches as she rags a brush through matted hair, climbs into pyjamas and folds back the bed covers. Though normally such a fan of connection, she wants nothing to do with him, and he can't fault her for this. Truthfully, he would feel the same way. Still, he watches her with a pained expression before placing his son in the bassinet aside the bed.

As Alicia snaps the light out, Delilah wriggles down the bed a little.

'Love you,' she whispers in his ear, tickling his chin with her blonde hair. 'Lots and lots.'

'I love you too,' replies Ethan a little louder, just in order to be heard. 'Like jelly tots.'

'You forgot the lots and lots.'

'Only because you already said it.'

They giggle a little, but the guilt bubbles in his stomach for the duration. But, how can he possibly ever tell the truth? His wife is being uncharacteristically subdued, lying in the darkness next to them — she is typically the last to speak.

This is why it hits home. And this is only the beginning of what is to come.


	5. Chapter 5

Another drop.

Alicia swirls her toes in the lukewarm water. It is a peaceful place to sit and reflect, and this she can do, whilst baby is out for an hour with her parents and her big girl is at school. She should get in really, but she is still quite sore and it's wise to get her feet accustomed to the temperature before anything else.

The sound of footsteps approaches, then stops almost just as abruptly.

'Bathrooms are good refuges, I have always found that too.' Ethan comments, putting down the toilet seat and perching on it. 'Especially the ED one. Oddly comforting, though the decor is rather drab, and that would be erring on the side of being complimentary.'

She quickly pulls the dressing gown more firmly over the trunk of her body, wrapping the tatty material over the purple striped thighs and excess cellulite. He notices this with regret, wishing she didn't feel the need to conceal herself. In the circumstances he is silenced and resigned to acceptance of whatever she does. He is the one that seeks forgiveness, after all.

In one movement of the hand, her blonde hair is brushed over her shoulder. It shrouds both their view of each other, and yet again, they are plunged into awkwardness.

'Can I explain?' He tries tentatively, sitting forward to place a hand on her shoulder. Predictably, she flinches, then recoils away from him down the edge of the bath. 'Please, Alicia, while the children aren't here. I know you don't want to hear it right now — God knows, I don't blame you — but you have to hear me out.'

'Listening,' is all she mutters in response.

'It is definitely not that I have no trust in you. I know Seth is mine, he looks like my brother, like me. That aside. He could have one eye, well, that would be monophthalmia, but he could seriously look like that alien off Monsters Inc, or whatever it's called—'

'Mike Wasowski.'

A flicker of a smile crosses his lips. 'Yeah, just like him. And do you know what? It wouldn't change a thing. He would still be my baby, and I would still love him.'

'Then why did you have a DNA testing kit in your dressing gown pocket?'

There it is. The golden question. He has only just managed to draw her in with the Disney reference. Right now, her expression is teetering dangerously between forlorn and anger. He must think on his feet.

'I, uh, I— it's private.' He manages, eyes round and apologetic.

'No, Ethan, there is no privacy. That doesn't exist when our children are thrown into the equation. Either you tell me what's going on, or I _will_ find out.'

It is blatantly obvious that she is not joking. Without even knowing her, the intonation in which she delivered the lines speaks volumes of its own. Almost a threat, but more like a challenge. She sets her eyes on him for the first time as if to say, "just you dare". This makes him swallow hard in spite of himself. She won't be satisfied without hearing a reason, be it true or false. It is the same level of feistiness, unwavering determination, passion, perhaps, that made him fall in love with her in the first place. Somehow, it's more than just a little paradoxical that the same qualities that were once so sexy are now the most threatening to him.

If the truth wouldn't break her heart, he would tell her straight away. All he is trying to do is protect her emotional state, and he knows that as long as he can do this, any fabrication of the truth is by all means justifiable. His morals are all he has, all he is. It would not be fair to anyone if he deviated from them. He is not an inconsistent man, and he's not lacking in compassion either.

'You're quiet,' says Alicia, beginning to suck her teeth. 'Trust is still a problem here, because you are now refusing to bestow your private matter on to me. I thought we had an understanding that we would share everything. You are my husband. More than that, you are my friend.'

'I am trying to do the best for you, but you can't see it. You will have to trust _me_ and practice what you preach.'

'You are treating me like a child. I don't need protecting and shielding, whatever this is, you can tell me. I'm thick-skinned, ought to be by now.' She says quietly.

'I am trying to do the caring thing, that, you can count on.' He replies. 'I love you and forever will.'

She wriggles away from his placed hand and turns around, expression like thunder. 'I can't be in the dark about it or it'll destroy me. I will constantly feel paranoid, like the foundations of our little world could be ripped from under my feet at any second—'

'Darling, you're being a little dramatic.'

She scoffs. 'According to you! I have _no_ clue what this is, what it could possibly be. All I know is what I saw and now upon confrontation, you are being all shifty and red faced about it. So, I've been reassured that you aren't actually accusing me of infidelity, but what else, if not that, could possibly warrant a DNA test?'

He sighs, feeling broken himself, and the words are out his mouth before he can stop them. 'I am trying to find my dad, okay? My real one.'

In a second, her accusatory expression has melted and she's levering herself out the bath and drying her feet on the mat. 'Oh, god, Ethan.'

'Yeah,' he exhales a little. 'Not a straightforward task, eh?'

Either she is moved by the display of what she believes to be raw honesty before her, or her own guilt is simply too much to handle, as she suddenly forgets all about the towel. Without a second thought, she climbs on his knee, straddling, gazing into his eyes.

'You could have told me,' she whispers. 'I would have helped.'

'You've just had a baby though. Plus, it looks kind of silly, a grown man in his early thirties looking for his parent. _Desperate_. Most people would just let it go. It isn't like he came looking for his son — _either_ son.' Ethan says, words tumbling out so plausibly he almost believes it himself.

'Aw, my love, of course not! It shows you are kind and sentimental, and thoughtful too. It is not a bad thing at all. Maybe he thinks you don't want to know him. I know I felt that way when I left Delilah, though it wasn't as bad, because she was tiny and otherwise clueless. The guilt is still there though when you're a parent. You think you've missed so much there's almost no point in even trying.' Alicia comforts, lacing her bare arms around his neck.

Instead of feeling better, he now feels all the worse. His wife is vulnerable and naked on his knee — it doesn't get much more intimate. Worse still, she is attempting to drag up all the bad memories she put to bed in order to empathise with him and his fairytale of a problem. He feels truly sick, and sicker still as she begins to stroke his shoulders with two thumbs, mistaking his blank face for true pain.

Normally, she would see straight through such a thing. However, considering the circumstances, she has no reason not to believe him and she has just had a baby. The guilt and shame of lying is so strong that he almost wants to spill it all, irrespective of how much it would hurt her.

She deserves to know his intentions to privately test their children. It could render their newborn son with a genetic disease forever. Their lovely daughter, too, who is so painfully full of life.

It would break Alicia to think there would ever be a day in her lifetime where Delilah could not skip and hop and show off, and fly to the moon, should the fancy still take her when she is in her adult years.

Being always a forward planner, he knows all too well the extent of her grand plans for their babies. Savings put away under lock and key. First car. Driving lessons. Extra tuition, if need be. Lavish holidays. First house of their own funded on their early pensions. Everything they could possibly ever want.

Small tears well in his eyes, yet he passes her a towel to place over her lap a little so both feel more comfortable. Her face contorts, desperate to reassure him. 'I know family means a lot to you. That is why you are you, because you are so bloody full to the brim of love — to your detriment most the time. If things don't work out with your father, then it wasn't meant to be. I will have your back every single step of the way of this journey, I promise.'

His hands settle on her lower back.

'And me you. I really did not mean to hurt you last night. The last thing you need to do is worry, now or ever,' he soothes, gently placing his lips to her forehead for a couple of seconds. 'Please know that whatever I do, whenever I do it, I do it for you. My very life focuses around that sentiment. It always will.'


	6. Chapter 6

A loud crash carries through the house. Shortly followed by crying.

'Mummy!'

Ethan drops his munched apple without hesitation and takes the stairs in twos, heart in his mouth all the way up.

'What's happened?' He calls, but he sees with his own eyes. Delilah lies in a crumpled heap on the carpet of the playroom, curled into a ball but for her little arm, which is stretched at an odd angle underneath the fallen dolls house.

'Try and be brave for me,' Ethan rides over the top of her cries with his tones, as soothing as he can possibly make it. 'Alicia—'

Half a minute passes where all he can do is stroke her sweaty hair and murmur words of comfort.

Alicia pads in, concerned and half-asleep, and a hand flies over her mouth when she sees them on the floor. 'What the hell happened in here?'

'It fell on her,' Ethan says weakly. 'At least I think it did.'

'Move it then?' She brushes him aside, springing into action, finding strength from somewhere even though her muscles ache, and yanks the wooden structure back upright again.

'My _arm_ , mummy—'

In full doctor mode, Alicia takes it gently yet firmly in one hand. 'Can you wiggle your fingers? Make two fists?' She asks.

The child nods, following the instructions.

'That's great. I'm just going to feel your arm a bit poppet, you tell me if it hurts and I will stop straight away, okay?'

'Shoulder,' Ethan manages to mumble from the carpet.

Not quietly enough. All three of them turn sharply to look, including Delilah, who forgets her injury for a second and then lets out a long howl.

'Can you touch your other shoulder, baby? The one nearest daddy?' Alicia tests.

'It hurts.' She whimpers, burrowing her head into his lap. 'It feels all tingly and hurts near my neck too.'

Both sit up with alarm and speak in unison. 'Point.'

'Collarbone,' Alicia nods to herself. 'Anterior shoulder dislocation. You'll have to take her up to the ED while I stay with baby to get it reduced and put in a sling.'

'We've got the materials here, I could probably cobble something—'

'No cobbling, you are not a nurse or a radiographer. Take her to hospital.' She says, with such firm intonation that he daren't question it.

'Fine. I'll take Seth too, give you some chance to sleep.'

Her hesitation is obvious and she twiddles with a hangnail. 'Take him to a hospital that's ridden with germs? He's a week old.'

'He'll be fine, I'll keep him strapped to me and we'll wait in the relatives room instead of the general waiting area—'

'I'm not so sure. Leave him behind, it makes sense.'

'I assure you it will be fine. You need to rest or you're no good to anyone, come on.'

'Take some of the expressed milk from the fridge then. Oh, dear me.' Alicia leans and grabs a small comfort blanket from her daughter's bed and wraps it, loosely and deftly. She glances at her husband anxiously before setting her eyes back on her daughter. 'Try not to move it too much. Be a big brave girl. Daddy will look after you.'

-x-

Almost the entire department drops everything to fuss around Delilah. Nurses and doctors, colleagues and vaguely familiar individuals, immediately tend to her and she is scooped up onto a trolley in the blink of an eyelid.

There is a cacophony of congratulations and prods at the baby but it all seems distant to Ethan. The only thing in his mind is his baby girl, his little love, his treasure who he'd move mountains — but not quite dollhouses — for.

Eventually he manages to hold Seth to his shoulder and wander down the corridor to the children's ward. He silently thanks a God he doesn't believe in that Alicia thought better of going with them. She would have kittens if she saw everyone poking her newborn and pulling back the corner of the swaddled cellular blanket to sneak a peak.

'Back at work sooner than you'd expected?' Elle sidles up to him with a coffee in hand. 'Oh, and with little one! How gorgeous! Is he okay?'

'Uh, it– it isn't him. Bigger one trapped her arm earlier and we think it's a shoulder dislocation.'

'And you didn't treat it at home?'

'I don't argue with the organ grinder,' he notes. 'Back at work in two days, or whenever Wednesday is. I'll see you then.'

Though having behaved in quite a curt manner, for once, Ethan is not at all remorseful or contemplative about the way he's interacted. Like clockwork, he pushes door after door and turns corners until he is confronted with his daughter and Charlie and a bandage.

'Oh, there's Dad.' Charlie says.

'Hey,' he manages a little breathlessly. 'It seems like she is in the best hands.'

'Well, Delilah has been telling me exactly how this came to be. We worked out that it is just a dislocation and will be mended very soon indeed because she has super strong bones. I said it's awfully easy to be in the wars when you're just six. Even though that's a big girl, accidents still happen.'

'Of course they do.' Ethan affirms with a relieved smile, hitching his son slightly in his arms. 'That's why we are lucky to have caring people who know how to make others better when these accidents happen.'

Delilah picks at a loose thread in her Next hoodie while swinging her sandalled feet over the edge of the hospital bed.

'Lord, who dressed you this morning?' Ethan asks, raising his eyebrows at the interesting outfit choice.

'Mummy let me choose and she said I looked beautiful and sparkly and like a princess. And now I look even more lovely because of my new pink bandage.'

'You do,' he sighs. 'Flip flops in October. Why not, eh?'

Charlie cleans up the equipment and draws back the curtain. 'Alicia sounds understandably tired. Good of you to bring the baby too to let her rest a bit. He's grown so much since we paid you a visit a few days ago.'

'I know.' Ethan agrees. 'He's put a pound on in a week. Scary how much he's growing already.'

'They aren't little for two minutes. I bet you don't want to leave him and come back to work, do you?'

'Not one bit. On the other hand, normality has to resume at some point. This one back to school, me back to work, life otherwise as normal—'

Delilah's chin jerks up and her eyes widen. 'But not school until my poorly arm fixes?'

'And how long will that be Uncle Charlie?' Ethan asks, desperately seeking back up.

'At least a week. Enough time to empty out the freezer of strawberry ice cream.' Charlie winks at the little girl.

'My wife is going to be exhausted with her at home as well—'

'And _my_ wife's rest days begin tomorrow and she will happily pop round and help if need be.' He retorts.

Ethan chuckles and gives a little shrug. 'Do I thank you or do I curse you?'

'All in a day's work.' Charlie pats his shoulder, a friendly gesture, before helping Delilah off the bed. 'See you later young lady. Go steady on that arm.'

'Say thank you, Delilah.' Ethan tells his daughter, guiding her with a hand to her lower back.

'Thank you Delilah!' She repeats cheerily, causing them to laugh.

-x-

In the car, Ethan can breathe a sigh of relief. His sweet daughter has not stopped asking questions about hospitals, but she is otherwise physically intact and that is all that matters. And the baby is finally asleep in the back of the car.

He drives cautiously, taking the A roads and not so much as moving his eyes from alternating between the mirrors and car in front. The car doesn't so much as wobble, not even when a little voice chirps, 'how did Seth get in Mummy's tummy?'.

Eventually he pulls over and fumbles in his pocket. Now is his chance. He has them both alone and he can't possibly wait any longer without rousing too much suspicion. His hand squeezes around the packet. The kit. An index finger reaches for the swab.

He gently prises the infant out of the car seat and eases the end of the cotton into his mouth. Seth writhes and wriggles in discomfort, letting out a loud squawk in protest. Done. It is placed quickly into a clear plastic bag and sealed.

'Delilah?' Ethan asks, peering into the mirror and jiggling his son on his knee. 'Can you stick your tongue out as far as it will go?'

Sick of being a performing monkey, the child promptly refuses and pouts defiantly. 'That's silly.'

He gives a little nervous laugh. 'Uh, if I do it, how about that? Will you give it a try then?'

'Why?' She asks curiously.

'For fun, like a game,' he answers quickly. 'Then we can go get ice cream and not tell Mummy.'

'Pinky promise I can have sprinkles and sauce?'

'Oh yes. Enough blue and pink sherbet to make it look like unicorn vomit. In the best way possible, that is.'

She giggles. 'Okay. Ahhh—'

Ethan pulls a similar face and passes her a swab. 'Can you put this under your tongue until it's nice and wet?'

Delilah obliges and passes it back to him. Done. It goes straight in the sealed and pre-labelled bag. The bag is stashed in the glove compartment underneath the first aid kit.

Ethan climbs out and opens the back door, ready to secure them both in the back for the next part of the journey.

'You did a perfect job of that,' he smiles sunnily at his daughter as he buckles Seth into the seat. 'And now we're going to go get some ice cream, a big one for you all to yourself. Loads of E numbers. Definitely don't tell Mummy, though she will probably notice with how hyper you are.'

'I'll stay super quiet, like a mouse. I won't even squeak one bit. Pinky promise.'

'Pinky promise.' He chuckles back at her, linking little fingers briefly.

It is only when he is climbing back into the front seat that he notices someone familiar parked opposite the car, staring in. Connie.


	7. Chapter 7

**-Bonnie Sveen Fan, panic at casualty and ReadingxTherapy: Thank you all so much! You're literally too kind. I love love love your reviews and they're what spurs me on to do more writing. Hope you enjoy this.**

Ethan drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he drives through the familiar village. Corner after corner, he spots the exact same things: the school, the corner shops, bikes parked, children playing out. He has space to think because both children are miraculously fast asleep in the back. Reflection is what he needs more than anything else, so it's lucky he has grabbed this ten minutes.

The kit would need to be sent off quickly for it to be valid. Waiting times are anywhere from 28 days to six months too. With dread, he realises the latter is half of a whole year. A lot in anyone's life, but made all the more significant when there's a baby in their first year of life. Seth might be a moving, smiling, gurgling baby before they learn his little life will be sniffed out prematurely. He feels agonised. Alicia doesn't need to feel the hurt, and his sole aim for years has been to protect her. It would be angst for nothing if he turns out to be right as rain.

Though, as much as he'd love to, he can't pretend concealing it from her is for anything other than selfish reasons. She would riot and leave him without a second thought. He would be alone forever and then suffer and die in solitude. There would be no point to life.

And Connie can't have seen. It was probably just a weird coincidence. The second he'd taken the hand brake off, Seth had decided to sick spectacularly up the milk his mother had so painstakingly divided ounce by ounce into little bottles. Acid reflux problems, Ethan suspects, but while ever his wife is so highly strung, he is refraining from suggesting any sort of ailment. Alicia believes her children are perfect through and through and prides herself on being the vigilant one. Idly, he decides to let her come to her own conclusions.

He drives up the cul-de-sac and feels his stomach sink at what awaits. The doorway of their house is occupied by Alicia, who is standing with arms folded and lips pursed.

 _Reverse on to the drive and ignore, he thinks._

A response is formulated in advance as he climbs out the car, but he lets her speak first. And she does.

Her eyes are round and angry. 'What are you playing at?'

Not wanting their sleeping children to be disturbed by the domestic about to ensue, he is mindful to gently close to car door.

'I would have told you—'

'Full of would haves, should haves! Next time I make a bolognese I'll just ship yours out by carrier pigeon, shall I?'

'Bolognese?'

She stomps off into the house and he quickly follows. The aroma of homemade sauce and mince smacks him in the face and he feels even more choked. Nobody has told her anything, it's just a pasta dish.

'I didn't realise the time,' he responds. 'I was so busy with the children, and—'

'Busy?' She interrupts, eyes blazing. 'I was _busy_ with cleaning the grubby fingerprints off everything. _Busy_ picking up your socks from the floor. _Busy_ sorting the laundry. _Busy_ preparing what I thought would be a nice family meal!'

'We were in hospital. You know how hectic it gets. I offered to sort it here and that would have been fine considering I do have a medical degree and consultancy qualifications—'

'Oh, don't be facetious!' She snaps. 'You could have checked your phone if you were going to be over 6 hours.'

'I was paying more attention to our children and there was traffic!'

Her lip quivers a little. The last person he's seen that on is his daughter only hours earlier. It's enough to make his expression soften and he goes to peer in the pan. Clearly still defensive, Alicia tries to shield it.

'Has it spoiled? Surely we can warm it up.' He tries gently.

'The kids are asleep, what's the point?'

He fumbles in his pocket for the keys. 'I'll sort it and dish it up if you want to go get them. Think all the waiting around must have tired Delilah out.'

'Might as well leave them be a while, I swear my ears are still ringing from earlier.' She runs a hand through her matted hair. 'That's awful, isn't it? I'm their mother. Oh god.'

Ethan goes to put a hand on her shoulder in comfort and then startles at the temperature. 'How long were you on that doorstep?'

'Five minutes,' she mumbles, averting his anxious eyes.

He pulls her into a rough embrace and places his lips to her forehead for a long second. 'A law unto yourself, you are. Please let's not row sweetheart.'

She squirms away from him after several seconds. 'Going to get our babies.'

Ethan feels a bit helpless as he begins to plate up the food, noting that it's warm enough to generate billows of steam. Mindlessly he dollops a bigger portion onto the pink plastic IKEA plate — it's his daughter's favourite meal and it will have been made with her in mind. His heart suddenly feels full to burst. Even though she has tendencies to overreact, his wife is always putting others first. Selflessness he could only wish to have. There's bread coated in garlic butter still baking away on low. There were only good intentions, he knows for sure.

It isn't long before Alicia staggers into the kitchen with their eldest draped across her arms.

'Something's wrong.' She gabbles, thrusting her at her husband.

He frowns but sets the plate in his hands down on the table and goes over. 'In what way?'

'She's sweaty, cheeks are pink, increased pulse, her forehead is boiling, it could be a febrile response to a haematoma somewhere in the tissue around the shoul—'

Delilah wakes up and starts to cry at the panicked tones she hears. Ethan outstretches his arms, effortlessly taking his little girl and holding her close. He starts to sway a little until she is soothed, occasionally whispering words of comfort.

'Aren't you going to do something?'

He smiles thinly. 'I left the heater on in the car.'

Alicia's face crumples. 'Now I suppose you think I'm mad as well.'

'Go get Seth before he starts the tears. At this rate, there won't be need for me to pay a water bill this month.'

-x-

'And,' Delilah says, on the predictable sugar rush, dropping the cutlery with a loud clang. 'I even got stickers. Lots of stickers.'

'Wow! Aren't you lucky?' Alicia nods, balancing the baby in the crook of her arm.

The child stands up and demonstrates a twirl before clumsily dropping to the floor, provoking involuntary responses from both parents whose arms shoot out in unison to break the fall.

'Nearly,' Ethan says, exchanging glances across the table. 'Sit down and eat your dinner.'

'Don't like it.'

'What's not to like?' He shoots back. 'Mm, yummy spaghetti. It's fun because you can twirl it on your fork and then eat it.'

'I know Daddy.' She rolls her eyes and kicks her chair back with force, making the table judder.

'Don't be rude.' Alicia scolds. 'I made you this dinner 'specially because you said you liked it. It's healthy and it's got all your veggies in it. I'll be a bit sad if you don't at least give it a go. Seth's eating his milk and he's only 9 days old.'

The child cradles her arm thoughtfully while the others eat, not so much as lifting the fork. She watches with fascination at her brother feeding.

'Mummy? How do you eat at the same time as Seth? That's very clever.' She observes matter-of-factly.

Ethan snorts into his pasta.

'When you have babies, you learn how to do a lot of things at once with both your hands. I am hungry but my baby is hungry too, so we eat together. As soon as he is big like you, he can eat by himself. I'll make you a deal: if you eat all your dinner now then I might just have some ice cream in the freezer.'

Delilah's eyes light up with glee before she stops almost just as quickly.

She looks torn before she begins truthfully. 'I've already had some today and it might be bad for my teeth.'

'Uh, just after you were such a good girl in hospital, that's right.' He quickly interjects and coughs loudly.

'And after I stuck my tongue out and Seth did!'

Alicia furrows her brow, pats to the baby's back becoming slower and slower as she mulls over the possible meanings. The pieces are slowly being put together and she glances at him across the table. She knows nothing for sure except that it's not good, but is clearly hoping his expression will give something away.

He sips from his pint glass of water, hoping desperately he hasn't paled too much.

'What do you mean?' Alicia asks finally. 'Were you all just being silly or something?'

Ethan nods vigorously. 'Yes, being very silly—'

There is a moment's silence but for the little gurgles from the baby. Delilah makes exaggerated head movements, looking curiously from parent to parent. Neither looks the other in the eye.

'I can't say.' She says slowly. 'We made a pinky promise.'

'Can I be in on the promise?' Alicia pretends to be interested, yet her chin is jutting out a little and her eyes have glazed over. Realisation has dawned and she is just seeking confirmation.

'We were all feeling cross after being in the hospital so Daddy drove the car somewhere funny and then parked it up. He put those things you used to clean my ears with in Seth's mouth and then into a bag and then I stuck my tongue out and did one too for a game. We stopped playing it all of a sudden and then Seth was sick up all his milk and it smelled and we got ice cream after that, a big one with sprinkles on it because I played the game well.'

The focus is not on how cute she sounds, slight-lisp slight Geordie twang, but rather on the words she has managed to gabble out. Oblivious, she begins to chew the mince and shovel the dinner in by the forkful. It's unclear as to whether she has finally remembered she's hungry or is simply eating because she senses the tension.

Tears well in Alicia's eyes. She rises from the table without a word, leaving the food behind to congeal.


	8. Chapter 8

Ethan puts the phone down a little sadly and chucks the plates in the sink with a clatter. Delilah is moping too, sucking her thumb all forlorn. He senses this. No matter how irritated he is with the world, he can't take it out on her.

'Why don't you go and play on your iPad?' He suggests. 'It's charging by the telly.'

She gives a little nod. 'Am I in trouble?'

'Not at all. Listen, I was just on the phone to grandma. She's coming round tonight to play with you and Seth while Mummy and Daddy pop out.'

'All night long?'

'Yes.' He nods. 'We will be back in the morning though, before you even open your eyes.'

'Why are you going?' She asks, starting to suck her thumb.

'We need to talk about things so that we stay friends. Remember that chat we had not so long ago? About mummies and daddies and spending time with each other so that they remember to love each other too? It is a bit like that.'

She is easily quietened by this and agrees, giving him a big cuddle before padding off into the living room to play a game on her tablet.

All of his limbs feel heavy. The last thing he wants to do is to leave his precious babies overnight but otherwise the damage between he and his wife would be irreparable. And she is upstairs sad. He can't just let her be.

He takes the stairs and is greeted by his wife and son, slumped against the wall. Tear tracks mark Alicia's cheeks, only just visible in the fast fading daylight, but her eyelids are closed. A restful state yet clearly a result of exhaustion. The baby, however, is wide awake. His ink-blue eyes are fixed on the ceiling. Ethan sits opposite them and reaches an index finger out to his son's fist.

He doesn't squeeze back. It is like he knows his father is capable of evil: causing his mother to break down in pain and giving him a faulty gene that determines his fate. Maybe he hates him. So new to the world yet spot on with character judgement. As if he can read minds, he brings his tiny fists up to his face and turns into his comatose lifeline.

To test what he dreads is the truth, Ethan praises the tiny body from his wife's chest. He arches his tiny back, writhing, and the wails start up like an engine revving. She of course awakens, rubbing her eyes and blinking furiously.

'Give him back—' Her voice is strained.

The doorbell chimes as if on cue.

He takes off down the stairs before she can properly come round, son in arms, trying to avoid lose her from the back of his heels.

Latches are fiddled with and slid across, keys twisted and the door swings open to reveal Jackie. Bags are stacked on her arms, bulging with clothes and other suspicious-looking tack that neither parent would dream of giving to their children. None of this matters. Peace is now possible.

'Mam?' Alicia asks. 'What are you doing here?'

She clears her throat, tactfully recognising it isn't her place to answer.

'I– I called her, darling, so she can look after the kids and we can go away for the night and talk.'

'Go away?' She gives a startled laugh. 'I have a newborn baby. I am not going anywhere and especially not with you—'

'Love,' Jackie takes a step forward, taking the baby from his father. 'It is probably best. He cares about you.'

Her voice rises. 'Nobody cares about me! Neither one of you! No attempts to even understand how I might be feeling.'

Tears are falling freely at this point, causing both Ethan and Jackie to exchange pained glances. He wishes the ground would swallow him up. It would be easier than trying to fix such a mess.

-x-

A Travelodge is not where either of them want to be. Away from their creature comforts, hating each other, deeply upset and beginning to feel quite chilly. It was the only place that still had remaining availability. The car judders to a halt in the dimly lit car park.

'One way to serve punishment for being a lousy mam and wife.' She mutters, staring bleakly out of the window.

'Come on, Alicia.' He sighs with frustration. 'We needed to chat and we can't do that at home. This is the best we've got. Our little ones are noticing the bad vibes. All we want for them is a lovely home atmosphere and we agreed that all along, didn't we?'

'Happy Hardy Household, we said on our wedding night.' She remembers with a little nostalgia, then sniffs loudly.

'Well, I'm a bit twee when drunk.'

'I don't think alcohol has any bearing, to be fair.'

They both laugh a little sadly.

'Where do I begin? I- I am sorry. I'm really bloody sorry. You found out in the worst way and you must be feeling terrible wondering about all the hows and whys.'

She folds her arms. 'I just don't get it. You said you believed me. I would never cheat on you. Sure, in my time, I've had my more promiscuous moments, but...'

'It isn't that. I know I am their father and paternity questions are not the reason for testing. The thought of even beginning to tell you felt futile, and-and _wrong_ , because I don't want to ruin you like I know this will.'

There is a lengthy pause. Alicia takes the time to fully rotate her body away from him, slumping more against the seat. She has no idea but there is a palpable morose feel to the air — whatever it is cannot be trivial.

' _Ruin_ ,' she finally repeats, tasting the word as if it were poison. 'Wow.'

He takes her hand a little cautiously. 'But it won't ruin you as much as it will inevitably me.'

'You are speaking in riddles, Ethan. Whatever it is just—'

'I have Huntington's disease.'


	9. Chapter 9

Distance has not healed anything so far.

The silence in the cramped living room is palpable. Boxes are stacked on top of boxes, something which contributes woefully to Alicia's jumbled state of mind. Still, she's grateful for a friend in times of struggle.

A mug of steaming tea is placed between her two hands. With a grateful glance and nod upwards, she eyes Louise and watches as she resumes her position on the tacky velvet sofa.

'Have you thought about forgiving him yet?' Louise asks, edging forward and gently chucking her phone aside.

Every single second. In the corner, Seth's eyelids flutter. He is nestled in a cotton bundle, tucked snugly in the makeshift basket. Alicia realises her son is so delicate: only recently had they marvelled at his growth, but take him out of home and he is all the tinier. Striking resemblance to his father. That same father that might have written off his little life because of the stupid Huntington's—

'I take that as a no,' sighs Louise, expression withering. 'He is your baby boy's father. Both your kids are half of you and half of him. Whatever it is that he's done, you must forgive him. Even if you don't feel like it right now. It isn't like you to be so stubborn — especially not where that bloke's concerned.'

 _That bloke. That bloke who she's shared stolen glances with for years, the one whose eyes still sparkle enough to set her world alight. That bloke who has given her chance after chance, sitting by doors she has closed until his whole body aches with fatigue. That bloke who snorted milk out his nose on the second date, only after donating his shoes in her direction and walking sock-footed through the midnight streets. That bloke who knows the right temperature of her bath water down to the degree, where to explore under the covers, when a day needs to be fixed with flowers or just a smile. That bloke who has given her two blonde beauties and dotes on them. That bloke who loves her irrevocably no matter the obstacle. And he's a victim of a destroying degenerative disease._

She bites her lip, anguished. 'You've got to promise you won't tell.'

'Who are we, Delilah and her friend? I pinky promise, alright?'

Alicia freezes, face contorting with horror, thinking of her little girl skipping happily about the playground making several of her own pinky promises. Thinking of how that's their father daughter trademark. Of that promise, the specific one that was disclosed at the dinner table.

'What?'

'He-uh, he's got Huntington's disease.'

'—Ethan has?'

'Yeah. Trouble is, I've only just found out. And if I'd have known, I would've been so much more careful. Instead he kept it quiet and we are all trapped.'

'Oh, you poor thing. Symptoms don't always start until at least mid fifties though, not that that's any better, but you won't all be grieving forever. It just gives life a bit of an expiry date. We all have one anyway, it's just we don't know it.'

She sniffs. 'I'd say you're wise, but...'

'Wait, isn't it...' Louise pauses, almost as if the pieces are slotting together.

 _Don't say it, please, don't verbalise it._

Her voice is scarcely a whisper. 'Hereditary?'

It is enough. The wobble in her voice combined with Alicia's existing concerns makes her break there and then. She begins to ugly cry, wanting comfort from the person that hurt her. Poor Ethan. Poor babies. Poor her. Everyone who matters might be broken. Her job is to fix poorly people and she can't even fix this. And they are her children.

'He's sent their DNA samples off for analysis. Behind my back, of course. We went off to a hotel to resolve the argument and then he told me, I- I left. I got a taxi home and picked up the children, our bags and came to yours. I can't be away from the baby long anyway because of the feeding thing. He's tried to call but it's only been two days. I just can't face him. I don't care how awful it makes me, I don't know how he could do this to two children who would've had the world at their feet. How he could do it to me—'

'No offence, but you're being a bit previous.' Louise passes her a tissue. 'Be quiet or you'll wake Seth, as if he's not been awake all last night already.'

Alicia manages a shaky laugh. 'He's out for the count. I just don't know what to do. It's pathetic. I feel so helpless, such a poor excuse of a mother. I vowed to get it right this time.'

'This isn't your fault though. Truthfully, it's not anyone's. You're here dwelling on what might not even be true. Just because it's true for him doesn't mean it's the case for your kids. What is it, a 25 percent chance?'

'The allele is dominant, so it'll be half chance.' Alicia corrects, trying not to snivel too loudly.

'He will be going spare with worry right now. I'm sure he doesn't love doing this to you, which is probably why he didn't say anything in the first place. Men are odd creatures. Ethan is ruled by his morals. You know that better than anybody else. He will have been doing what he thought saved the most feelings.'

'Well, he got it wrong.' Alicia retorts. 'So wrong. He thinks he can play God like this, deciding what I do and don't know, about my children, like he gets some sort of kick out of it—'

'Highly doubt that. You're being dramatic. Cut yourself some slack, you only gave birth ten days ago.'

'How I wish it was just a simple matter of having a row about TV, or whether it's appropriate to let Delilah eat her food with her fingers. It is literally life or death.' She comments miserably.

Louise glances at her, pitiful for a moment before something snaps. 'Me, you, baby, Starbucks. We have an hour before we go and pick Delilah up from school'

'I'm not up to it. I have like, one outfit left.'

 _And plenty more at home. He isn't kicking anybody out. In fact, the opposite. She knows he would delight at her return. But it isn't her pride to swallow. She would rather wear a bin bag than hurry back and play happy families._

'We can drive through. I'll drive my car and baby's got his seat. The coffee and attractive male workers call. Caffeine certainly calls me after that night.'

Alicia giggles. 'I'll pay then. I owe it to you. You've let us stay and put up with my screamer for the past two nights. I bet you'll be glad to go back to work.'

'You certainly will pay,' Louise raises an eyebrow with a cheeky smile. 'Use Ethan's card.'

'He'd probably like me to,' she realises guiltily. 'He didn't go back to work after all and decided to take his two weeks together. I hope he's not feeling awful.'

'You've changed your tune.'

'I still _love_ him, Louise,' she sighs scathingly. 'I just love my babies too. More. I need time to deal with this hurt.'

In less than a few minutes, they are bundled up and ready to leave through the door of the flat. Alicia heaves her bags over her shoulders, making a mental note to not to bash them too hard against the walls on the way down. Just in case she has a change of heart and wants to go back. Her volatile mental state tells them both this is a definite possibility. Louise gives her a comforting smile and squeezes Seth a little closer to her chest.

This is what friends are for.


	10. Chapter 10

If he can just keep going: thirty more seconds, 50 more metres, the end of the song. So much for breathable cotton, he thinks, as he grimly peels the damp material from his chest. Jogging round the neighbourhood feels weird so early in the morning. Everything is still and waiting but for the birds, twittering at exact intervals. It seems silly not to use his newfound energy in a productive way — shaking off the ' _dad pounds_ ', as Alicia once playfully jibed. Really, it was hypocritical, as it is her 9-months-sedentary lifestyle that has caused him to lose his tone. The air is warm enough to be pleasant, yet cool enough to feel invigorating. Exercising whilst he feels energised and awake enough to do so. And while his legs still work.

When the volume of his headphones is up high enough, it drowns out the feelings of hollowness that threaten to take over. Because, of course, he still thinks of them. Tries to call. Dives for the phone at the slightest ping of a notification. Wakes up in the night to find the other half of the bed empty, minus even the little limbs that kick him in the chin as they wriggle in slumber. Checks his daughter's room in case she's managed to tiptoe back in. Habitually flicks the landing light on in the early hours, simply because there might be monsters in the dark when you're six and you wake up early for a drink of water. Straightens the Moses basket stand when it looks a little wonky. Puts two pairs of socks on the radiator to warm them for cosy toes, not just once. Looks at himself in the mirror each morning and wishes with all his might that he could a week and magic them back.

He slows into a walk, legs ceasing and muscles quivering. He has reached a place that brings back fond memories.

By the long grass and the violets is where they brought Delilah, routinely every day in the summer months when she was barely a year and a half. They would amble down with a buggy and an ice cream. She'd bounce up and down with glee, podgy fingers punching the grass whenever she saw the butterflies and bees that used to flutter past. At lunchtime they'd whip her away from the grass and tuck her firmly in the shade, painting her in copious amounts of factor 50 until she looked like a ghost. It was comical. She soon became more confident and tottered round on the grass barefoot, sometimes bending to pluck a blade of grass. Alicia had tired of reading '50 yummy mummy recipes' and had decided to be a nuisance, slotting grass in his hair and calling him a farmer. He'd brushed it off at the time and had felt a little silly. There's a photo of the three of them somewhere, probably living in her scrapbook. They all have that ridiculous grass in their mouth but their smiles only tell of one thing: happiness.

Someone sits by the grass. He rubs his eyes. It wouldn't be her — she made it obvious that she deeply objected to being out in the fresh air all day all those years ago. It was warmer then, too. Wishful thinking and serves him right for leaving his contacts back at home.

He turns back round and then pauses suddenly.

A little voice chirps away. 'Mummy, do you believe in magic?'

Instinctively, he turns around and takes steps closer towards the origin.

'Of course,' the woman answers, wrapping her arm around her the child's tiny body. 'I think it's very real. You don't always have to see something to know it's there. You can just hold it close to your heart and know it's with you no matter what.'

Alicia and Delilah and the pram and of course not only is the situation ironic, but the subject matter is too. Though tempting, he knows she wouldn't receive a surprise 'here I am' too well. So he keeps shtum and hides away in the bushes like a stalker.

'Maybe there's fairies here,' says Delilah, standing up and doing a twirl. 'I _wish_ Louise wasn't doing work.'

'Mm. She has to, so she can afford to buy food and keep living in her flat.'

'I like her flat. Seth was sick on the carpet and it smelled though. He is so sicky. She might get a new one so everything is all undirty again.'

'You never know. Look, why don't you go find some more daisies so I can finish this chain, eh? And make you a beautiful bracelet!'

 _His heart hurts to watch them together._

Delilah stoops and wraps her arms around her mother's shoulders. Shit. Ethan ducks a little, choosing to crouch behind a neighbouring leafy hedge. His knees burn, chilly and nervous. Adrenaline courses through his veins. But why is his body organising a fight or flight response? He doesn't need to race away. This is his family. It is as if his whole body is working against him and misinterpreting everything. The only element of danger to the situation is truly himself. Several skips and he is busted.

Sure enough, there's a monumental pause and footsteps stop almost as soon as they be one audible. He glances at the grass, the only place he dare look, to see the pink spotty Clarks shoes they'd bought in three sizes. The scuff from the time she fell over the kerb and was inches from a face plant. Locking eyes with his own little girl feels too much of a challenge. But eventually he does. Her green eyes are as wide as saucers, goggled like never before at the sight of her father. She tucks the wisps of mousy hair behind her ear with her free hand and remains silent.

'—your arm is better!'

The remark sounds weak. Pathetic. Like he's forgotten how to do things properly. Like his 3ft 9 six year old with light up shoes is the adult towering above him.

'D, who is it?' Alicia calls, rising and slamming the pram into gear, shoving it up the hill and stopping abruptly.

'Hi.' Ethan rises, knees still wobbling a little, giving an awkward little wave.

The daggers that come from her eyes suggest he's cursed them. He supposes he has, in a fashion. Nobody speaks for a few seconds. Delilah moves first, retreating behind her mother as if she fears the man she hung off only the week before. Like he is the enemy.

'No sling? The arm better then. All back to normal?' He asks breezily, forcing a smile for both of them.

'Yeah. Everything couldn't be any more _normal_.' Alicia spits, gripping the handle tightly and steering her daughter by the shoulder, frogmarching them off. 'We are going, sweetheart, stop dragging your feet.'

'But I want to see my daddy...' Delilah whines softly.

'Funny how we should both be in the same park. You know, I-I was thinking of how we used to come here all the time. I didn't mean to end up here today — it was more by chance. A lucky chance, cause I saw you guys! Have you been up long? What is it, just past eight in the morning? Lovely weather for October too—'

Ethan starts jogging to match the pace they are heading towards the exit.

'How are my babies? It's nearly been a week. It's an inset day today, isn't it? That's fun!'

Alicia spins round, blonde hair flying in the wind. 'Not now.'

'Then when?' He tries pathetically. 'This is horrendous. I just want you to come home.'

'Home?' She chokes, as if even a mention of the word evokes terrible feelings. 'Not a chance. Where is home?'

'You know where home is!'

Her eyes blaze with hurt. 'The feeling wouldn't be there. I'm not bringing my babies into a building with a-a hostile environment just where we're all tersely addressing each other until doomsday.'

'We only ever radiate love and care in our household. It is the most heinous of insults that you even think any differently—'

'Oh, Ethan. I need to get my head straight. I can't possibly think while you're bombarding me.' She sighs.

'But running away is not the answer! Your problems will still be here when you return—'

'Who says I have to return?'

'Life dictates that, unfortunately! Did fleeing solve anything before? Look at everything you missed last time. All those regrets you had, still have—'

'Don't drag up my past. I made amends for that and it was a mistake. This is completely different, because I have my beautiful kids with me. Where they belong.'

'They are mine too!'

She begins again, forlorn. 'But you gave—'

Both freeze.

'Gave?' He repeats, face contorted with pain.

Guilt starts to wash over her face and she shakes her head, small tears filling her eyes. The face of saying something she regrets. A mistake. The sentence doesn't have to be finished for them to all know. But Ethan is bold now. He has nothing to lose. His wife has just delivered the verbal blow he trusted she would never.

'Huntington's, is that what you mean? I gave them that?'

Her eyes water and she reaches out a little, but he recoils smartly.

'Maybe, I mean—'

'And you are actually being serious. Wow, I— of everyone? You're using this against me?'

She shuffles uncomfortably. 'I'm just stating a fact.'

'It's always on the forefront of your mind, that I might have given our children a genetic disease! How do you think I feel? Overjoyed? Elated, knowing I've definitely got it myself but my wife resents every last fibre of my being? Thinking that nobody cares and everyone I love has chosen to left me?!'

'Deaths don't count, you can't blame yourself for that,' she averts her eyes, posting her hand back under the hood of the pram to fix Seth's dummy. 'Nobody has left you.'

'You're hiding away at Louise's one-bedroom flat instead of coming home to the house where I am paying bills and I am cleaning up and I am staring at the photo frames, at the blank faces of the people I love who are absent by their own choice!'

'Is a disease like chicken pox?' Delilah asks out of nowhere, sucking her thumb and clinging to Alicia's leg.

'Now look what you've done.' She hisses.

'I've done?' Ethan repeats, outraged. 'This was happening anyway, according to you. I'm only surprised you've not told the whole world and his wife!'

'I would never! Why do you think I'm in such a state now? Because I've kept it all to myself bottled up! Anything to keep everyone else blissfully ignorant.'

'Then we need to approach this as a team!' He croaks, beginning to plead now. 'So we at least have each other.'

As a last ditch attempt, he reaches out his fingers. They exist there in the autumn air, dangling, waiting. Nobody utters a word. The torment is visible on everyone's face: the secret is out. Things are teetering on the edge of never being right again. The next few seconds might as well be life determining.

Alicia swallows and turns on her heel, propelling herself and her children out of the park.

Everything is still once more.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: All your lovely reviews mean so so much and make me smile. I am in the midst of all things revision so will likely be quiet with updates until I next get time in late May — I'm not neglecting writing completely!**_

Alicia straightens up from her stoop, plonking the iron upright on the board and not so much as wincing at the hiss. Deftly, she folds a tiny lemon shirt and leaves it atop the pile on the arm of the sofa. Steam crackles into the air and she roots for another garment. White with a collar: a dainty school blouse or yet another expensive work shirt of her husband's. She hopes for the former and delights when it is, knowing it requires much less care and attention to detail. Only on rare occasions does she do anything other with the laundry than ram it into a drawer folded, making her less than an avid ironer. Removing the creases from every last section of material will require a level of painstaking effort, and she doesn't much fancy singeing a black hole in it. Especially in the circumstances.

She imagines the conversation with dread. _"I know we aren't talking, but I've just destroyed your shirt."_ He might sigh and adopt that funny frown of his, tell her it wasn't a favourite anyway and not to worry. The man who watched her walk down the aisle would probably stroke her hair back and thank her for trying, then cut off the excess and convert it to cushion covers for their bed.

Instead of musing over trivial things, she decides to give it up as a bad job. A valiant effort has been made to sort the family laundry. Most of the clothes successfully crease-free are Ethan and Delilah's — a crumple or two won't hurt the baby and definitely won't hurt her.

Having the house to herself is more than a little strange. Jackie has taken both kids for the day to give her some respite from her newly-acquired single mother status, or as good as, anyway. It doesn't feel like a Saturday. It doesn't feel like the weekend. It doesn't feel like anything. All the parenting books that she'd borrowed from the library warned her of feeling this way, having everything turn into a blur, but she'd brushed it off in the hope that she could pull through. Grimly, she realises she overestimated herself. Naïvety at its finest.

A clanging resounds through the hallway for a second, which causes her to stop still. Her throat constricts. She thinks of the key she purposefully placed by the kettle.

Taking a coat hanger for a weapon, she tiptoes forwards. It is but too easy to fear the worst. Burglaries have been common in the area ever since the local police department crumbled. She hears heavy breathing and stops again, panic rising in her chest. Another few inches of the carpet is covered before she decides to confront it and face up. There could be an innocuous explanation, like the creaking of pipes, or even simply hallucinations on her part—

'Agh!'

It is unclear, at first, whose scream is the loudest. A slow and steady stream of curse words escape Alicia's lips, and she thrusts the coat hanger into the chest of her anxiety perpetrator before stomping up the stairs huffing and puffing.

Of course. How could she have been so stupid, so _thoughtless_ , so preoccupied, to imagine it would ever be anyone else?

Faintly she hears chuckling, which only serves as a further wind up.

'Sod— _off_ , Ethan!' She collapses against the bedroom radiator with a little cry. 'Why did you have to do that?'

'Do what, exactly?' He returns, running a hand through his hair with weariness yet wry amusement.

Resenting this, she turns her back to him and faces out the window.

'What were you doing? Where are the kids? I never realised you'd be here. I still call. Every single day, yet it goes straight to answerphone. I—'

'Catching up on the chores.' She turns around again.

'The children?' He asks.

'They're with my mam.'

'Ah,' he exhales a little disappointedly. 'Right, sure.'

'You startled me, walking in like that.'

'... because that really was my every intention in my own house.'

'Oh piss off.'

In their earlier days, he'd flinch at the sound of even the mildest use of swearing. He is now used to it. They speak both languages: English and expletives in each other's company. Exchanging harsh words, name-calling and telling each other exactly where to go is now second nature to them.

He does not react and she hates him even more for keeping his calm when she lost hers in such an ugly way. She watches as he pulls open the wardrobe door, slots in the offending coat hanger nonchalantly and closes it again with a gentle thud. The blood spatter above his belt just accessorises the outfit; mess is proof of toil saving lives. With nimble fingers, he unbuttons the grey shirt in only a few seconds. Déjà vu washes over her in a strangely comforting way: many a time has she witnessed those hands weave their way down material. He slings it on the bed and enters the wardrobe again, in search of a new one. A white one with sleeves. There is a pause. His fingers brush against the cufflinks for clarification and she knows he remembers that night. _Their first night._

With a throaty cough, he turns and locks eyes with her. It is not tentative, no air of caution — he means to do this and the flicker, the sparkle, millisecond of a gleam that resides there, however temporarily, is far from an accident.

'What about this one?' He asks quietly. 'Or perhaps too precious a keepsake to don and wear in the emergency department?'

She shifts her weight a little, rearranging her eyes on the carpet. _Precious._ A night full of deceit, guilt, alcohol and pent up feelings — summarised to him as precious. Her cheeks grow hotter and hotter.

'Best save it, I reckon. For the next time we set the world alight, _if_ there'll be a next time.'

A tear dribbles down her face at his hesitance, the rawness, and her hand flies up to wipe it. It feels shameful having emotions, still feeling so soppy, still trembling at his every line, especially when she knows it's her duty to stick fast by the angry and distant other half that she's trying to be.

The worst thing of all is that she's in front of him, _vulnerable_. He knows and is actively paying no attention. Astute enough to know the weight of his words and how the delivery has just affected her, yet he continues on calmly buttoning up the plainer shirt he's found.

Boyish and defeated by the silence, he shrugs a little and glances at his own feet.

'I best be getting off then. Will you—'

Alicia is quick to jump in. 'Will I what?'

He pauses, annoyed at being cut off. 'A-are you planning on staying around?'

Her heart wants to comfort him, tell him of course there's nowhere she'd rather be. Independence is starting to feel murderous, more lonely than empowering, and her whole body is nagging her to drop the pretence and go home, tuck the children into bed with milk and a story and cuddle up on the sofa in front of terrible serial dramas or Emmerdale. She wants to play happy families again more than anything.

'I just came to do chores.' She says finally.

He cocks his head on one side, eyebrows knitted in his typical frown. Not fooled.

'I am perfectly capable of ironing, y'know, though you happen to underestimate me. I did look after myself and my man-child of a brother for a good five years. We got by.' He says.

'And your point is?'

'Come on, Alicia, what do you take me for?'

Her lip starts to wobble. 'I didn't want you to be without uniform.'

'This has nothing to do with any housework, does it?'

His face is contorted with sympathy and she has never wanted to break down more. How _dare_ he do that?

'Of course it does,' she answers quickly. 'Why else would I be at home? It wasn't like I knew I was going to have company.'

'But you came because you were prepared to wait for a time when we could talk, because that's easier than answering my calls or voicemails, and far easier than saying sorry.'

'Believe me, Ethan Hardy, I'm not sorry about a thing.' She says, voice steadying.

'I don't mean apology-wise. I was referring to remorse for the sorry situation that we find ourselves in. You take me for an idiot. I see that you hate it every bit as much as I do—'

'I will do whatever it takes to minimise the pain of me and my children. If that means distance until we get those results, it does.'

'At the cost of causing me a shed load of grief! You have been gone for ten days. It feels like a punishment. Dropping everything and running is not a solution, Alicia, and you yet again do not learn!'

'Neither do you! We have had unprotected sex so many times, and it's resulted in two children. That's irresponsible. You knew I stopped taking the pill. Now I realise why we dodged all those appointments — out of your own fear and pride and not Seth's safety!' She retorts.

'What if we had a false positive result? Chorionic villus sampling and amniocentesis are _not_ always accurate methods of genetic screening—'

She shakes her head, exasperated. 'We are fighting all the time. My mam and dad fought and I know exactly what it feels like when you are a scared little girl. Nobody was there to comfort me in the dark. All I could hear was shouting. I'm not having that for my baby, either of my babies...'

'That was years ago and-and we are not _your_ parents!' He exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

Alicia scoffs loudly, making it clear this comment has disgruntled her.

Ethan continues. 'I will always wipe Delilah's tears and chase away the monsters. She will never be scared. I want to provide stability and care for all of you, this disease is completely out of my hands—

'We are going round in circles,' recognises Alicia weakly. 'I don't have bad intentions.'

'I know you don't, but you must see how selfish you are being—'

She concedes with a tearful nod of the head. 'I need time to think.'

He stands there in thought for a moment, staring into space a little sadly. A brief check of the watch jolts him into action and he slips past her, briefly placing a hand on her shoulder as he passes.

Then he is gone almost as quickly as he arrived.

Ten minutes could've been mistaken for ten hours. She clamps a hand over her mouth in fear the repressed emotion will slip out while he's still lingering downstairs. The door slams downstairs and she sobs, wondering what she did to deserve a man who comes back time after time with only increased patience and understanding. And care.

She makes her way downstairs after a long while. The iron has happily eaten through a cotton top in her absence, only an 'I love you' away from setting fire.


	12. Chapter 12

Upon arrival home, Ethan is greeted with silence. Her converse are still scattered about the mat, but more noticeably, so are two tiny pairs of shoes.

'Alicia?' He calls, clutching the bannister and leaning upstairs.

There is a patter of footsteps and his small daughter's face appears round the corner, breaking into a grin when she sees him. As if proud of herself, she heaves with her a baby, who could easily be mistaken for a doll. He instinctively reaches out and takes his son, cradling him in his arms.

'You're not to pick him up.' He scolds lightly. 'You could have dropped him. Did you take him out his basket?'

'Uh, he was sleeping on the bed with my Mummy but he woke up...'

His stomach does a momentary somersault. Clearly his wife thinks she is untouchable now, above any guidelines in place. Co-sleeping is dangerous and he has warned her time and time again. More to the point, she has seen for herself the effects it can have on too many poor infants admitted to hospital. Maybe it's his fault. Perhaps it is tiredness causing her judgement to lapse. Either way, his temples squeeze.

The writhing, squirming bundle of baby cries a little, Ethan's attention back in smartly. Three weeks old and blossoming: pink hued cheeks, pudgy hands and thickening hair. He fits comfortably now between two forearms, where he was one too small to before. Delilah stands on tiptoes on the last step and strokes her brother's head for a few seconds, alternating this with smiles for her father.

'We came home and I missed everything.'

'I bet you did, sweetheart. It is fabulous to see you back again. New glasses and new haircut I see?'

'Yes!' Delilah giggles. 'I wanted it shorter because it tickles my back when it's all long. Mummy is so busy now and that means she doesn't always have time to plait my hair.'

'You have beautiful hair, long or short. Just like a princess.' He tells her. 'How long has Ali— Mummy been asleep? Do you know?'

She shrugs blankly and plonks a thumb in mouth. 'For a bit.'

Ten minutes? An hour? Two? He thinks about texting Jackie to see when she dropped them off. Checking on his wife is the last thing he wants to do. He isn't entirely sure he would be able to handle it. He thought she would be gone when he returned, and the stay is unanticipated. Welcome, but unanticipated. And now he has to think about how to go on.

'And what did you do with grandma?'

'Painted some pictures and then went to Asda.'

'Did you have any lunch?'

Delilah is too busy fiddling with an empty Kinder egg capsule she's spotted to pay his questioning any attention.

'I said, have you eaten anything?' Ethan snaps and then immediately feels terrible.

She recoils a little in surprise at the harsh tones, narrowing her eyes in a way he recognises all too intimately. Her tiny arms are folded across her chest and she sniffles. 'I had some Quavers and some apple slices.'

He nods a little. 'Did grandma feed Seth any of the milk that was sent with you?'

'No...'

'So your brother hasn't eaten?' He says, glancing down at the child in his arms, who seems oddly content.

'She gave him some other milk from a carton we got off the aisle with all the nappies. You're grumpy.'

'No I'm not.' He snaps. 'You need to tell me everything instead of being so stubborn and naughty—'

There is a pause. Delilah lets out a howl, springing up and running upstairs as fast as her little legs will carry her. He feels spectacularly worse. The crying subsided and he faintly catches soothing tones. Footsteps draw close again. _3, 2, 1..._

He doesn't even meet his wife's eyes, instead swivelling and rocking his son gently and placing his lips to his tiny head lovingly. Hoping to keep one person on side, in absence of having the other two.

'Nice one.' Alicia says steadily, eyeing him up like a criminal.

'I didn't mean to.' He manages.

'Then tell that to your little girl!' She exclaims, as if their child is not hanging from her hip.

 _Undermining and a cut too deep._

But still. He is being pushed into a corner. There is an awful silence and Alicia's stare is like thunder, as if warning him to set a good example and swallow his pride. If he doesn't, he knows the storm is only just brewing.

'Take Seth?' Ethan asks.

Her eyes don't budge from his face. 'Gladly.'

Delilah is gently placed on two feet, but she clings to her mother's leg and hides her face. He shamefully bends into a crouch. 'I am really sorry. Daddy was the naughty one. You are just six and did absolutely nothing wrong. I was feeling a little worried about whether you had eaten today. I care about you very much but I shouldn't have shouted. Shouting is never okay.'

Momentarily his gaze travels back up to his wife, who is towering over him, clutching their son with tears in her eyes.

'Sometimes when we love someone, we shout at them a bit more because we know they will love us anyway. Even if it makes them sad. A bit of them will always love us, no matter how hard we try to break them—'

Alicia clears her throat in recognition of his declaration. 'Alright, that's enough now.'

Still, her hand is on his upper left arm and she too sinks down, sitting by his side. Delilah's legs bend underneath her too and her little head lolls on Ethan's other shoulder.

They are a tangle of limbs: forlorn and despondent but united all the same. Their situation rudely getting in the way of their happiness time and time again. Yet here they are, a family, a crumpled heap on the uncomfortable floor. Always coming back together in spite of everything; weathered relationships constantly being tested but never broken. Not yet.

'Stopped breastfeeding then?' Ethan asks finally, stroking his daughter's hair. He glances across at his wife and notices for the first time that her hair is straggly, tear tracks still marking her cheeks.

'I had to. I want my hormones to settle a bit more and I've given him the best start for nearly a month, besides, it bloody hurt!'

He nods a little, grateful for her explanation, but wishing a little she didn't spill everything. Even if it weren't himself sat by her side, he is convinced she would still spill the same account. The only parallel he can draw to mind is the well known warning of " _teach your children not to take sweets off strangers_ " and " _don't talk to that man in the supermarket queue_ ". Alicia seemingly bypassed all those instructions as a child, or simply overlooked them, and tells others the minutiae of her adult personal life with alarming detail. It is sweet — sometimes — but it contributes to his ever-growing list of worries. Not that you can worry about a fully grown woman, he thinks. But it's her and she is a liability.

'Has he taken to formula any better? Less of the reflux?'

'More,' Alicia sighs. 'Caught between a rock and a hard place. I'm coping though. We all learn to cope in the end.'

'Motherhood has made you wise,' he remarks with a chuckle.

'You sure about that?' She settles Seth against her shoulder and lifts up her knitted jumper to reveal an Ariel vest, lettering cracked from seeing the washing machine a few too many times.

'Nothing wrong with princesses. Look — I feel really guilty. I know I've been calling but it is completely understandable that you should feel resentful. The circumstances are shocking. Things like the feeding... I... you should've been able to talk to me. Only did a year in paediatric medicine but I could have helped you through as a partner.'

'It was me who ignored your calls.' She reminds. 'You're far too soft. Not suspicious of anyone's actions or motives, always quick to blame yourself—'

He hangs his head a little. It has always been a niggle in the back of his mind that she'd see through him, and not only that, but she's finally verbalised it: the hamartia of her superhero husband, the fatal flaw being everyone taking him for a mug. That has always been the case. His own brother was the best at it. Stealing money, testing his DNA behind his back. Stupid, _broken_ DNA at that—'

Alicia's brow crumples with torment. 'You look sad.'

'Sad?' He repeats, voice catching and sounding odd.

Delilah sits up in earnest and wraps her arms around his shoulders. Her newly shortened hair tickles his neck as she leans forward a little more, giggling in the cutest of ways. Kids have the funniest way of springing back from conflict like a rubber band, he thinks. His new mantra may well have to be to "be more Delilah".

She is _so_ like Cal. Her cheekiness, her zest for life, boundless energy and ability to surprise — all qualities he and Alicia possess but to a much lesser extent. How very strange to have a carbon copy of his brother in a daughter. They would have been the best of friends too.

 _For a fleeting moment, Ethan imagines another universe: his brother whisking the kids off for a night to give them a break. He and Alicia, all smiles and designer fragrance and probably cufflinks too, perched on a balcony sipping champagne and hopping off the rollercoaster that is life just for a few hours. Later them heading back to a hotel, only to be sent a picture message of the kids up at midnight with chocolate and sweets. Uncle Cal would have been the best. Delilah would plead to stay at his where they can make all the bubble mountains in the world. And—_

'Ethan, you look like somebody's cancelled Christmas and the entire world has fallen out your backside.'

He chuckles despite himself before remembering they have company.

'Don't be rude, Mummy!' He scolds.

'You said a bad word.' Delilah wags a finger, narrowly avoiding poking the baby's eye out.

'She _did_ , didn't she darling?' Ethan tuts loudly to make his mock objection especially clear.

Alicia bounces Seth on her knee a little and turns him round to face the others. 'Look, he's smiling! Let's all smile!'

'Probably wind.' Ethan mentions with a wink. 'I'm joking. He is an adorable child, biased though I may be.'

The prospect of a smile is enough for Delilah, who is cooing and babbling in her little brother's face like she has seen many adults around her do.

'What do we do when we're feeling down?' Alicia asks, but it's as if she's not really seeking an answer. 'Monopoly of course!'

'Can I play too before my bath?'

'Of course poppet.' He replies.

They all rise from the staircase and exchange glances.

'We know how to fix things, don't we?'

They watch as their little girl skips into the living room. Alicia gives a wry smile and follows on through, youngest in arms.

His mobile vibrates in his pocket. There are more important things than a text, especially right now, but it could be work. He pulls the screen out and squints to read the display.

 _Connie: 'How did the genetic screening go? Pop in for a chat when you're next in work. I'd like to speak to you.'_

Even the most perfect of moments has to be tainted. He sighs and swallows the lump in his throat before joining his family.


	13. Chapter 13

'So,' Connie begins primly, adjusting her hair and lifting it off the back of her neck in that same disconcerting way. 'I trust you have told her?'

Ethan lets out an involuntary groan. 'Told her, yes. Delilah saved me the hard work and spilled it over the dinner that had been cooking carefully away all day.'

'And she took it well, I'm assuming?' She gives a directed yet delicate clear of the throat.

He at once notices the clinical lead's eyes are fixed on his phone screen, where a rather intimate notification has popped up. Pink-cheeked, his fingers scrabble against the desk and bring it firmly in. There is an awkward silence as he stuffs it in his bag, silently wondering why he deserves even more anguish. Anyone else would have been a less judgemental witness.

And Alicia — oh, she picks her moments alright. Time and time again he told her not to message while he was working. Of course, she never pays attention to the warnings and reprimands, deriving a strange satisfaction out of it. Like it's something illicit, a taboo. If she imagines it in that way, Ethan is sure it glorifies the whole image for her of him slaving away with catheters, scalpels and flesh, or sitting at the computer stethoscope-clad and typing up some rogue document onto a hospital database. Maybe she thinks he likes it. And sometimes it is amusing. Any other time it sends him reeling exactly like it did all those years ago. The flame never seems to be extinguished except, unbeknownst to his wife, when he is perched in the midst of an interrogation with his boss.

 _Recover this and quick._

'Mm. You've been abroad ten days, haven't you? Was it nice?' Ethan asks, remembering from social media that she left to America the same evening he'd feared she had spotted him — and had.

'Very nice.' She nods.

Now she is silent and smiling. It is a trap that he will fall straight into: a ploy to make him start talking and say something he regrets just to rid them of the quiet that's descending.

'I-I meant, well, in the two weeks, you'll have been removed from it all. Incessant bickering and squabbling and us dancing round one another. Alicia took the children to stay at Louise's. She didn't understand initially that I wasn't testing them for paternity reasons, and so she thought I was accusing her of infidelity. After I'd finally explained the real reason — my Huntington's — s-she freaked out and took off.'

Connie laces her fingers together on the desk with an expression somewhat between pity and curiosity.

'I— tried calling, I did. Rung her every day three times a day. Walked round the house like some lunatic trying to think of ways I could get them back. She was as adamant and defiant as ever. Her emotion eventually triumphed over her convictions and I found her round at ours again when I popped home on a break. She crept up on me, pretended to think I was a burglar, but I think that was all a bit of moonshine. The children were with her mother. We shouted and I left back to work enraged. Heard her crying as I left but my presence was only making things worse, so I left her to it. You can't help someone that doesn't want your help.'

'So you didn't see the kids in two weeks?'

'About that, yeah.'

'Have you had the results back yet?' She asks.

'I'm expecting them hopefully in the next two weeks.'

'You can't help having that gene. It is a hard time for you, a time of torment. You would hope a partner would support you through all that and recognise you didn't take all these risks on purpose.' Connie says slowly.

He shuffles a bit on the blue plastic chair, feeling guilty for going into so much detail. It is a huge relief to finally get things off his chest to someone relatively objective. The words won't stop coming. Walls are crumbling down and his vulnerability is starting to show. If he doesn't have his public image, what does he have? The notion alone of losing everything is terrifying enough.

'It is my fault.' He says vehemently, enunciating each word to emphasise his guilt. 'I was reckless. I climbed into bed with her without protection.'

'Were they both intentional pregnancies, or happy accidents?' Connie smiles lightly.

'One of each. I just wasn't thinking. I knew about the gene and Alicia didn't. She consented to something without realising it. I set the person I love up for the most heinous of falls. What if she loses everyone she loves? Her bravery, tenacity, compassion, vivacious, energy, selflessness, _whole life_ devoted to helping others — rewarded only by the premature loss of her husband and babies. Seeing the decline of those that should outlive her. Even if she decides she doesn't care about me now, it is still the fact that she will go through such inevitable turmoil. There is no panacea for her. It will take an awful lot to forgive myself—'

'But you've got to.' Connie sighs. 'You are so morally concerned, more than most, and probably more than she. She will also feel immeasurable guilt for not knowing sooner about your situation. How long has it been? Eight years you've known each other?'

'Nine.' He corrects, puffing out his cheeks. 'She was newly 24 and I was 26.'

'Well then. You found out about your Huntington's a year before then?'

'Yes, but—'

'No buts. She will have thought loads about why you've not had the bottle to let her in on that.'

'But I don't want her to feel guilty. I kept it from her, she wasn't to know—'

Connie cuts in. 'Irrelevant. Now you see how irrational your worries are. She will have her own guilt, you will have yours. The point I'm trying to illustrate is that guilt is pointless moving forward. Why have regrets? All you can do is support each other through. Certainly seems as though she'd like to be amiable with you.'

He cringes, thinking of the text and how he would have never embarrassed a colleague in the same way when he was in charge all those years ago. Luckily (or unluckily), she can see his embarrassment and so changes the subject skilfully.

'Work for only six hours today. Finish at three in the afternoon. Go home and see that baby of yours. Pick up your little girl from school. Take them all for ice cream or McDonalds or something ludicrous that a medic should never advocate. Smile and laugh and accept and hold close.'

Ethan can't help but smile a little at her words.

'When I saw Grace and Sam, it was truly wonderful. This isn't public information and stays firmly in this office by the way. I realised the importance of family. I know it is a fractionally different dynamic, but the principles remain the same. We have all wronged each other. All felt guilty. Wished we could have taken words back, or perhaps said something different. Truth is, we can think of hypotheticals all we like. Do you know what that is? Wasted energy. We have to move with the times and hold our people close.'

'Wise advice. I am glad you enjoyed yourself, truly. And thank you.' He excuses himself and hovers for a moment, rising from tentatively from his chair when she gives him a nod.

He feels a bit ill at ease after the unorthodox display of kindness. Only as he stands and turns to face her does he notice the organisation of her office. Piles of books and folders are ordered by colour and size, carpet scrubbed within an inch of its life so no dust or fluff or bodily fluids remain. A couple of oak photo frames turn inward and face the wall. A pristine and calm bubble of the hospital, scented with a eucalyptus plug-in rather than industrial chemical cleaner. Everything is positioned just so, he notes: the model of the skeletal system down to a Rubik's cube residing by the monitor. He wonders how she keeps a lid on it all.

She raises an eyebrow. 'We're all a little strange. And that's why everything fits together — even when you lose all courage and hope in the world. It _always_ works in the end.'

-x-

In many ways, Ethan feels better after leaving. Her advice has shaped his thinking somewhat, and relief of her intense company has lifted a weight off his shoulders.

He reaches the staffroom and arrives at an abrupt stop. Six paramedics wheel in four patients, combative and cross. The emergency department after student weekend is just glorious, he thinks. Each year is predictable in the same way. Students drunk, comatose, homesick or worse, all three, are brought in by the dozen. It is one of the few things he struggles to empathise with in medicine. He never was one of those students. However, seeing them all so inebriated is strangely comforting — this happens every year. The earth has done another full orbit of the sun and he has witnessed so much change each time:

 _9 Octobers ago_ he mentored a pink-haired, bright-eyed Alicia who could connect scarily well with the patients brought in.

 _8 Octobers ago_ he was bantering with his brother and was relieved from standard duties: instead he and Alicia took an excursion to rescue a scientist from a cave, which was a huge learning curve for them both.

 _7 Octobers ago_ he'd just lost his brother and let a man die, completely unaware of his unborn child growing away.

 _6 Octobers ago_ he was a single father to a tiny little girl barely holding her own head upright.

 _5 Octobers ago_ things were getting back on the right track and he had undertaken clinical lead duties.

 _4 Octobers ago_ they moved into a rented house and he got through the shifts only on energy drinks.

 _3 Octobers ago_ he'd just proposed and his mind was clouded with setting a wedding date.

 _2 Octobers ago_ Delilah started school, and he accidentally recited a line from her 'Magic Reading Tree' phonic book out of sheer exhaustion when determining treatment for a young patient. Embarrassing and confusing for all involved and worse when he apologised for his actions with the term 'sweetpea'

 _1 October ago_ they moved into their new house and started to enjoy life all carefree.

 _Now..._

He swings open his locker door and takes one last glance at his phone screen. Really, he should probably open the messages and read them properly. Especially since she has sent another 7 in the twenty minutes he was talking — clearly it can't wait.

He feels himself growing hotter and hotter. It is barely 9am. A photo message pops through and he averts his eyes for her own sake.

The last one looks cleaner and he dares to read properly:

 _I hope you've taken notice of what I've said_ , it begins.

He wonders briefly in what universe he could _possibly_ overlook it.

 _Go save lives but when you're done, come and save mine!!! Xx_

Either it's boredom or frustration and though he chuckles, he feels a little wistful that he can't do more in the situation. She is missing what he is missing because they have both been missing it for a long time. Too long.

He types back quickly: _I'll see what I can do! Don't go getting any outrageous ideas though... I'm getting too long in the tooth._

It predictably only takes a few seconds for her to reply: _Outrageous??! You don't know me well xxx_

His smile broadens. It's the first time he has had chance to think of her as anything other than the mother to his children, or a person he must co-exist alongside. He looks up and sees the bustle of the department. He is needed.

He quickly keys out a response:

 _X_


	14. Chapter 14

Ethan awakes abruptly after a tiny foot connects with his jaw, kicking hard. He barely has chance to wince before the glory dawns on him. His family, encased in slumber in his hold.

He yawns and dares to stretch a little, hoping not to cause a ruckus in doing so. Sleep is precious to the girls and it isn't worth disturbing them and rousing them for the day. Gently and quickly, and with the swiftness of a martial arts expert, he tumbles out of bed like clockwork, just like he has always done every single morning for the last five years. Alicia pouts and curls up on her side, whilst Delilah stays starfishing in the centre, totally occupying the entire mattress.

He brushes his teeth a little too vigorously and the mint begins to choke him with its ferocity, lingering underneath his tongue even after rinsing with mouthwash. Then he travels over to the basket by the window.

Seth's toes are poking the seams of his polka dot Cath Kidston suit only bought one week before. His eyes are open, milky whites widening with curiosity and fixating on the ceiling. Ethan follows his son's gaze and decides the glow-in-the-dark stars were well placed by his wife, even though they had a row about the need for them on the way back from the science museum. 'Just like the night sky', she'd said. And she was right. Every bit as magical.

He takes him into his arms and croons a little, rocking by the window and stroking his downy hair, which he is adamant becomes more ginger by the hour. 'Strawberry blonde', Alicia would scold. And she'd be right with that too.

'Shall we get you your milk?' He whispers. 'You are such a good boy to sleep for four hours and let Mummy rest.'

Seth gurgles and shudders, taking a tiny breath in and then expelling a mammoth sneeze.

Ethan chuckles with surprise and then love settles in his eyes. 'Bless you. You deserve all the blessings in the world, my boy.'

-x-

He flops on the sofa, milk in hand and son in arms. He is a seasoned baby feeder: experience in the SCBU and with the neonates, solely caring for their daughter in the early years and now a chance to do it all over again. There is a wistful moment where he wonders if Alicia could have breastfed longer. Delilah never even had a chance. Still, feeding seems like something he shouldn't be privy to; moments so special that are not his to have. And yet he is active in the process of growing his son, and he couldn't be any more grateful.

Seth gulps the milk noisily, making dramatic noises and downing the liquid at breakneck speed.

9am. Shrill alarm sounds resound through the entire house. His alarm, accidentally left on automatically after a row of shifts.

Within a minute, the girls appear, matching expressions of annoyance plastered over their faces. He is forced to do a double take: same mane of blonde hair, wrinkled foreheads, pursed lips, raised left eyebrow, chin wobbling. Alicia has produced a carbon copy of herself with sassiness and feistiness to boot.

'Just what do you think you're playing at?' Delilah asks, wiggling her head and putting hands with splayed fingers on her hips.

'Yeah,' Alicia chirps. 'What you playing at?'

He narrows his eyes at her but can't resist a smirk, moving a cushion and patting the sofa beside him. They pile on, Delilah crawling over his chest and his wife nestling into his side.

'Careful of the baby,' reminds Ethan, plonking the bottle on the side. 'I didn't mean to leave the alarm on. Though I'm surprised you didn't both sleep through it, lazy bones. You'd sleep through an earthquake.'

'I doubt we would, Daddy. All the ground would shake.'

'Exactly,' Ethan ruffles her hair. 'I'm only kidding.'

'I'm going to go wait for the postman.' Delilah informs them, clambering off and skipping through into the hallway.

'Bless her. She's still convinced that kid from Spain two summers ago will write back to her. Puppy love, eh? I know we exchanged addresses but to be honest, his mother looked as if she couldn't care less, always more focused on that awful male friend of hers that she picked up from the bar where the mini disco was. All those days spent round the pool inhaling cigarette fumes and nasty lager. I used to smoke in my younger days, I know, but that's the past, I just don't get why anyon— Ethan, are you even listening?'

'Hm? Yeah, disgusting, I remember having to move the towels.'

Alicia raises an eyebrow, sceptic. 'You're uptight.'

'I'm really not.'

'Ethan, I wasn't born yesterday. You are forgetting that every little emotion shows up on your face,' she says smugly.

'Clearly it can't.'

'You are lost in thought. I know your every expression.'

'Leave me be.'

'And you're all tensed up.' She places a hand on his shoulder as if to prove a point, which he quickly bats off.

'I am fine.'

'The mail.' She realises at last. 'You think it could be—'

There is a clatter and the thud of envelopes dropping on the mat below. They both freeze. Seth pierces the air with a cry, rhythmic _wah wahs,_ bleating like a baby animal removed from its mother. He wails and tenses in his father's arms, as if objecting to the involuntarily shaking he feels under his little body.

The little girl skips, bringing it in and squinting to read the names in the little paper window. Being woken so unexpectedly meant she hadn't the chance to grab her glasses on the way down. Still, she manages, tossing the letters at her parents and collapses on the sofa, arms folded and grumpy. 'All for you two.'

Alicia does not console her daughter. She does not glance at her husband, or at her infant, or at any of the other important documents, like her phone bill or bank statement. Her maternity pay could not matter any less to her. Her hands, worn with use and chapped with motherhood, scrabble out for the letter with the logo only recognisable by a medic or someone in the know. Or both.

'Well?' Ethan demands.

Delilah lies her head in his lap, fiddling with the strings on his joggers. She yanks it tighter, then ties it in a knot of eight, picking it apart just as quickly. Just like she was taught at Rainbows.

There is a second and a half's worth of pause whilst she unfolds the letter. A genetic counsellor or their personal assistant will have folded that letter into quarters only days earlier and gone home to have dinner at the table with their family, not even paying a second thought to the havoc it had the potential to bring for one family: the Hardys. Moreover their beautiful, _wonderful_ babies. It will either be a curse or a relief, a chapter in their lives they'll put down to a blip in happiness and archive it as a tale to tell when the children are much older.

Alicia lets out a strangled cry and leaps off the sofa, casting the letter behind.

His stomach lurches as he bends to pick the crumpled paper up from the floor. The words jump from the page, and it feels as if he has missed a step when walking downstairs in the dark. Perfect match of the odds. Two children, half chance. A positive and a negative. All his fault.

Both babies snuffle beneath him. Somehow, in spite of the noise, they are both dozing once more.

Things will never be the same ever again.

 ** _(AN: Sorry for the lack of updates! I've been super busy in exam city — 6 done and 8 to go resuming a week on Monday! In and amongst revision I've tried to slot in a chance to write. I will have way more time in two weeks when I have a huuuge long summer. For all these months have dragged, they've flown by too!_**

 ** _I am so nervous to watch the next few episodes and think it's so upsetting how they've sequenced events. It's going to be a real tough watch and my heart will break, I feel it coming._**

 ** _Thanks ever so much for staying loyal and still reading! Reviews mean a big lot to me so let me know if you're still following this and who you think has the gene: Delilah or Seth?_**

 ** _Any requests or general comments feel free to PM me or let me know below!!!)_**


	15. Chapter 15

Her knees burn, carpet imprinting patterns on her bare feet as she crouches and leans into the bed. Watching, wondering, waiting for any sign of movement.

With a shaky hand, she eases back the damp tendrils and smothers her baby in light kisses.

'Come away,' whispers Ethan, hanging in the doorway.

Her eyes glisten as she struggles to keep the repressed emotion at the base of her throat. It isn't an option to cry out and sob — no matter how much she feels like it. She can't show weakness. And she definitely can't wake her darling Delilah and let her know that anything is amiss.

'Alicia, come away now.' He sighs listlessly. 'You're not achieving anything. Let her rest peacefully, eh? It's beyond late.'

'Leave me and my daughter alone,' she warns. 'I mean it. You've done enough.'

He sees her glare in the glow of the toadstool nightlight and leans against the doorframe, defeated. 'It was a mistake. A complete and total accident, you getting pregnant seven years ago. We were just kids with stethoscopes.'

'My baby was _not_ a mistake!' Alicia hisses, tears catching in her throat.

'Wrong word choice, you know talking in difficult situations is not my strong suit by a long—'

'You disgust me.' She shakes her head and rises, fleeing the room.

He takes the steps in twos, refusing to let her go, until they are face to face in the kitchen. A stand off in their own house.

'One of us forgot to use protection, probably you,' Ethan argues, exasperated. 'Sorry, definitely you. We were using the combined pill as contraception because I prescribed it to you. Nobody knew we were even seeing each other. I can probably still find receipts for the prescriptions with our names and dates on them.'

Having no retort, Alicia makes a performance of scoffing loudly. 'If only you could hear yourself sounding so petulant!'

He glowers. 'Petulant? I am trying to sequence events, t-to rationalise things—'

'By playing the blame game! How dare you even imply this is my doing? Maybe I wanted your child. You never thought to tell me you even had H— that disease. So much for being your best friend.'

'Oh, Alicia, nobody could ever blame you — but it is not my fault either. I didn't ask to have Huntington's, I-I don't enjoy having it on my mind each and every day. It shouldn't mean that I stay childless for the rest of my life! I am trying to highlight how ludicrous the whole idea of blaming someone. This is just misfortune, all in the lap of the Gods.'

'What God?' She snaps derisively.

Neither says anything. Challenging religion is putting herself in a dangerous territory, but she feels justified in doing it, because omnibenevolence as a concept cannot possibly be true. A loving God would have spared her baby. And his. Ethan's eyes travel upwards to the ceiling as if he is grimly sharing her thoughts. Also thinking of Delilah. Thinking of how little she is, how pure she is, and how everything has been monumentally torn apart.

'I can't move past the fact you never paused to think of the harm you could be inflicting on an innocent child, a child of yours. What about Seth? Hm? What about when I got pregnant with him? I suppose that was just a slip-up of memory too?' She challenges.

'You are being childish.' His own eyes burn with pain, wounded by the woman he never dreamed would turn on him.

She isn't put off. 'Best of all, you still didn't tell me, your wife, that you had a degenerative disease. Why wouldn't you open up to me? This could have been a double whammy and you didn't take steps to stop it. How is that anything but selfish?'

'I see why you think that and I know why you are cross, I do. Believe me, I have regrets.'

' _You_ have regrets!'

'And what's that supposed to mean?' His eyes glisten. 'That you wouldn't start a family with me if you could turn back time?'

Tears spill down her cheeks and her expression contorts like he has never seen before. 'I- no, Ethan. But you have to understand. It hurts so much—'

He instinctively holds her as she weeps, clumsily embracing her body to his, realising that all that is her is between his arms. Vulnerable, frightened of losing everything that has ever mattered.

He is grief's accomplice; all the suffering is fault. How can he not empathise? He should know it never gets easier. In fact, watching someone else hurt so profoundly brings back haunting memories of his own many losses.

'I sort of wish it had been Seth instead,' she cries noisily. 'It would have hurt less because I've not had as long to love him. That's evil, isn't it? I'm being horrible, I'm a _terrible_ mother—'

'It wouldn't have made a difference,' he whispers. 'By the time I've long gone, there will be a cure. Something that stops brain cell death, fixes the myelin sheath and insulates the impulses. No consolation but there's real hope for Delilah. I promise.'

Eyes brimming with tears, she looks up at him. 'Really?'

 _You are a doctor, he thinks. And your guess is as good or as incorrect as mine. To take anything I say to be the truth would be a gullible act._

But he nods, if nothing else but to comfort her, and he wraps her in his arms once more.

He nods firmly. 'I know it will all work out. We can see genetic counsellors who know more about it than us. Make plans. There is no need to be scared.'

'How can you say that? I'm terrified.'

'I know, darling.'

They sway for a little while until he places his lips to her forehead, bringing them to a stationary silence.

'What about when you aren't here?' She whispers tentatively.

'Then– then you will have someone. Mrs Beauchamp will always look out for you. Robyn, Louise. Jackie. Seth will be an adult by then. You will never be alone.' He says, voice quivering. 'And you can't get rid of me that easily. I hang around quite a bit, you know.'

'Don't I know it?' She manages a smile through the tears. 'Can't wait to be spooked by your ghost.'

'I won't be scary,' he manages a laugh. 'I will just do things like move utensils in the kitchen one inch to the left, or leave the plastic over the top of the milk and put the lid back on, or leave my socks in places you didn't think socks could get.'

'I don't want that to be soon. You can't promise anything. It's ruthless. You must be even more scared than me. I am so selfish—' she realises, smile fast disappearing behind anxiousness.

He lifts her chin with one index finger. 'Always find happiness. And courage. I have every faith in you and always have. You will manage whatever the circumstance.'

'Now you're speaking like you have all the answers.'

'I don't,' he sighs. 'Nobody does. What I do know for certain is that you will cope, Alicia. Trust me that far.'

Delilah appears in the doorway, Nelly, her grey elephant whose chewed cotton ears have seen better days, is tucked firmly under her arm.

'Mummy?' She asks, forlorn. 'Are you crying?'

Alicia dabs her eyes furiously on the backs of her sleeves. She manages a watery smile and bends down to her little girl, easing her flyaway mousy curls back behind her tiny ears. There is no point in lying.

'I was just a little bit sad. Everything is going to be fine.'

Delilah plonks her thumb in her mouth and looks towards her father instead. 'Did you two shout again?'

They exchange glances.

For the first time, Ethan notices how tired she is and feels reverently humbled by her strength. Tear tracks have washed her makeup away, yet she is still standing resolute. Trying to mask the evil hurt he has induced with a smile for the sake of her six year old. All she wants to do is protect her and has done right from day 1. Shielded the precious newborn from her mental illness by running away, then came back and made up for every lost giggle and milestone since. He remembers with an ache why he loves his wife so much — her willingness to sacrifice. That is what it is all about. Suddenly, the naïve and emotional girl he fell for is replaced with an infinitely wise mother figure.

Both Alicia and Delilah rivet their eyes on him like toddlers waiting for their next instruction. Waiting for his piece. An explanation. Their lips are parted in the same expectant way, curious yet passive, and although it would usually irritate him, it starts to break his heart.

'Uh, just a little bit.' Ethan admits guiltily, scratching his head. 'We are just grouchy. We never sleep anymore now we have your little brother, up every single hour because he is a very hungry boy. He has something called colic. Lots of babies get it, but it makes them cry louder and longer.'

'Are you going to send him back?' She asks. 'Or to a family who can't have babies of their own?'

Ethan frowns. 'Another family? Gosh, of course not. Why would we do that?'

'I was telling her about adoption. She asked why she sees my mam and not yours. It led to more and more questions.' Alicia swiftly explains. 'Delilah, we love you and your brother very much and we always will. You are not leaving us just yet. At least not for another 12 years.'

'Besides, you can't send babies back. Where would we put him? Back inside Mummy's tummy?' Ethan says with a directed chuckle.

'Yes, back from where he fell out.' She says solemnly.

'Fell out!' Alicia snorts. 'That might hurt a bit.'

'Where do babies come from?' Delilah quizzes, twirling her hair. 'How did Seth get out if he was so big? Did they have to cut into your tummy?'

Ethan takes his daughter into his arms and sits her on the side, looking into her green eyes, which are exactly the same shade as his own. He wonders when children start to get all these questions. When she was a baby, he would rock her and assume she would remain forever tiny and cuddle-able, dependent on him. Now she is asking him about the birds and the bees, and honestly, he doesn't have a formulated answer in mind. Other than the truth. That's out of the question. Alicia insists on informing her daughter but bubble wrapping her too, so he typically follows her lead in the gentle style of parenting. It is working so far.

'We will save this chat for another day. Let's go back upstairs.'

'But I've forgotten though.' Delilah says simply.

'Come on, your Dad's right, it's late.' Alicia contributes.

'I'm hungry,' she whines, kicking her heels against the worktop as Ethan lifts her off. 'I just want a little teensy snack.'

'How about an apple?' He suggests wearily, eyeing the fruit bowl.

All of them turn to look at it. Three peaches, one moulding orange and a tiny bruised pear sit there. Weekly shop day is tomorrow.

'I want a kebab.' Delilah sucks her sleeve and shifts her weight.

'You've never had a k—' Ethan glances up at his wife, who tellingly averts his eyes. 'If you don't want a piece of fruit, you are not hungry.'

There is a split second of silence. None of them would opt to touch anything from the bowl, and this is blatantly obvious.

Delilah starts to tantrum, causing Alicia to slump against the wall in despair, not once offering him any moral support in calming their child. Her little limbs kick out, connecting with just about every surface, banging hard against the linoleum floor. She screams and screams until her face is a worrying shade of magenta, body writhing, neck shaking, veins throbbing prominently.

'This is ridiculous, she's going to wake Seth—'

'Oh, let her get it out of her system,' replies Ethan calmly. 'She won't keep it up forever.'

'It's after midnight and she's screaming blue murder. If you don't do something, I am going to.'

'And what, precisely?' He laughs a little over the noise. 'It will blow over.'

'She is six — who's the parent here?' Alicia shakes her head, own tears threatening to spill over again. 'Delilah, we are going outside into the garden until you calm down.'

'Whoa, it's barely five degrees, you can't possibly—'

'Watch me.' She spits back at him, then bends to scoop the thrashing child up off the floor.

He steps forward with concern, catching a flailing limb in one hand. 'Alicia, she's going to hit you—'

'Fly a flag.'

The back door slams and judders against the hinges and the outdoor security light flashes yellow, illuminating the silhouette of them staggering out to the wooden patio table.

A shrill cry reaches his ears from upstairs.

All four members of the Hardy family in tears at once, merely because of his faulty genes.

Seth is only ten weeks old, upstairs lonely and hungry and wondering why all his people are downstairs bickering. He has been swept into the tornado lifestyle by default: his only wrongdoing is hunger for the next bottle of milk and desire for peace.

Ethan feels sick as he climbs each stair to reach him.

-x-

There is a clunk of limbs against wood and a mumble, perhaps cursing. Alicia pops her head round the door and manages a rueful smile. Their daughter is fast asleep and splayed across her arms, toast crumbs around her puckered mouth and red blotches decorating her cheeks.

She drapes Delilah in the centre of the double bed and watches as she flinches and reaches out, then relaxes her tiny limbs like a robot out of batteries.

Ethan readjusts the sleeping baby in the crook of his elbow and outstretches his spare arm, which she gladly settles into and mimics her daughter's sleepy sniffles.

'Kebabs, eh? Dirty secret.'

'It was a one off months ago,' chuckles Alicia tiredly. 'You were working.'

There is a little pause and they simultaneously hold their breath.

'Look, you are a brilliant mother. All that composure and insight. The cold fresh air air clearly worked. I just thought I would let her get it out of her system inside, I was blank.'

'I was a bit rash.' She concedes. 'I never think things through. You probably had the more sensible idea but I felt at the end of my tether. Not with our sweet, overtired girl who senses all this tension — just with everything.'

Delilah shudders in her sleep, causing both of them to stare a little.

'She woke Seth up anyway, you know?'

Alicia says nothing and moves her hand to his chest, tracing circles like clockwork. It is unclear who she is trying to comfort more.

'Too many teary episodes today in this household. It has to stop. We need to pull ourselves together and work as a unit, not against each other. We're acting like brats, not our kids. All the baleful looks, the snarls, snide comments— I'm largely responsible. None of us hate each other. In fact, I'd say it's the opposite. We love each other so much. Our disagreements can run deep, but we mustn't let them feature in front of the babies.' She whispers, finishing with a little sigh. 'Let's be happy from now on, despite the circumstances. No more rowing.'

The corners of his lips twitch in the dim light.

'Spill,' says Alicia, smiling with intrigue, readjusting her hand to sit on his shoulder. 'I know that look anywhere. What's the secret?'

'Nothing, it's just— well... you're always full of surprises.'

'Mm? Is that a good thing?'

'Of course it is,' he whispers. 'Without doubt. Run for Prime Minister.'

'And watch the country descend into chaos?' She mumbles.

'And kebabs.'

The light is clumsily switched out and they kiss.


End file.
